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Chap.>?k/... Copyright No 





UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


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“ Pay for what You get, and don’t forget your Manners.” 


DAN DRUMMOND 


OF THE DRUMMONDS 


BY 

GULIELMA ZOLLINGER 
(WILLIAM ZACHARY GLADWIN) 



BOSTON 

Zbc pilgrim 


CHICAGO 



Co^yrigJit^ i8(y;. 

By J. H. Tewksbury. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 










PAGE 

I. 

THE BOOTBLACK 

• 


• 


. 


. 


5 

II. 

TRAMPING . 


• 


• 


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. 

14 

III. 

A GIllL-BOY 

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. 23 

IV. 

A minister’s boy 


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O 


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32 

V. 

IN SCHOOL 

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• 


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. 42 

VI. 

TAKING CARE OF THE CHILDREN 

. 


. 

61 

VII. 

FLY PAPER 

• 


• 


• 


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. 73 

VIII. 

A GRANDMOTHER 


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81 

IX. 

A PARADE 

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. 92 

X. 

TAKEN IN HAND . 


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100 

XI. / 

MORE MANNERS 

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. 109 

XII. 

A READING CLUB . 


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117 

XIII. 

GARDENING 

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. 126 

XIV. 

HUCKSTERING 


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138 

XV. 

A VACATION . 

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. 150 

XVI. 

ANCIENT HISTORY 


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161 

XVII. 

OLD ROMANS . 

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. 171 

XVIII. 

THE ROMAN ARMY 


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181 

XIX. 

GREEKS . 

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. 196 

XX. 

NEW SCHEMES 




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217 


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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

XXI. 

A TRICLINIUM .... 

. 22 () 

XXII. 

THE FAIR 

238 

XXIII. 

PREMIUMS 

. 246 

XXIV. 

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

254 

XXV. 

A NEW BOY 

. 265 

XXVI. 

A FRISKY GOAT 

277 

XXVII. 

A REMINDER .... 

. 284 

XXVIII. 

TEACHING SCHOOL 

294 

XXIX. 

A GRANDFATHER .... 

. 303 


DAN DRUMMOND 


CHAPTER I 

THE BOOTBLACK 

The sun was shining cheerily down on a great 
Western city one morning, and, as a tiny part of 
the great city’s total, it shone on a little boot- 
black, who stood, now on one foot and now on 
the other, as he shivered in the March wind and 
waited for shines. 

A late March wind is sometimes not so cold, 
but that is when it is in some other place than 
the South Side of Chicago with the lake to put 
chill into it. And even on the South Side the 
wind is not so severe on comfortably-clad people 
as upon poorly-clothed, ill-fed little boys. 

But the little fellow was not thinking of the 
cold, though his teeth were chattering. He was 
grateful for the sun. The sun meant an increase 

of business to him, and every day now it would 
5 


6 


DAN DRUMMOND 


grow warmer. So he kept on hopping first on 
one foot and then on the other, drawing up a 
shoulder to the side of the wind, half turning this 
way and that, and all the time keeping a sharp 
lookout for “ shines.” 

This was a new place to him, and he must work 
up a trade. He had no chair for the gentlemen 
to sit on while he worked upon their shoes ; he 
could not afford it. His customers must stand, 
and he thouglit they might be willing to do so 
when once he had made them understand that he 
meant to do good work for his money. He had 
been here a week now, every day, and to-morrow 
would be the first of April. No wonder that 
March wind blew ! It felt itself belated and blew 
with zeal. And the little bootblack, who had 
been a newsboy all winter and had tired of that 
jostling, yelling occupation, took it patiently and 
hopped about and shivered. 

He was twelve years old, with not a relative 
that he knew of. His mother was the only one 
he remembered, and she had died a year before 
and left to her son nothing but high ideals which 
she had carefully implanted in his soul, ideals that 
made him as alone in the swarming tenement 
where he lodged as here upon this empty street. 


THE BOOTBLACK 


7 


But of all that coarse, rough tenement crew no 
one disliked the boy. To them he was simply 
queer. 

And now when, in spite of all the shining of 
the sun and all his own efforts to keep warm, the 
wind had him in a chill, two gentlemen rounded 
the corner and came toward him. The little fel- 
low’s eyes brightened. One was a “shine” he 
knew, and perhaps the other might be. Yes, the 
other was. “ Now there ’ll be hot coffee for break- 
fast,” he thought gleefully. And he went to 
work with a will while the two continued their 
conversation. 

The boy, intent upon his task and the breakfast 
to come, paid no attention until he heard one say 
to the other, “ Yes, the Drummonds are a fine 
family — a fine family. I never knew one of them 
to do a mean act.” 

Why should the little lad shoot that keen look 
at the speaker from his dark eyes, and then smile 
a little smile that was full of gratification ? Why 
should he all that day hold up his shapely head 
with the grace and dignity that were his birth- 
right ? 

He was a Drummond. In all the twelve years 
of his life he had never heard of another. He 


8 


DAN DRUM3I0ND 


had supposed that his mother had left him en- 
tirely alone in the world. And here there were 
more of them, and they were a “fine family.” 
His heart swelled with pride. He did not know 
where they were, but they were somewhere, and 
the world was a better and a brighter place. 

Thoroughness was born in him and had been de- 
veloped by his mother’s training. He had never 
neglected his work, but now he began to take 
particular pains with it. “ To take money for 
doing something, and then not do your best at it, 
is mean,” he said to himself. “ I ’ll not be the 
first Drummond to do a mean trick.” 

Nobody knew he was a Drummond. Nobody 
asked him his name, but his work spoke exceed- 
ingly well for him, and was ably seconded by 
his quiet, respectful manner. And he presently 
had so much to do that his small, thin arms 
ached. 

“ Bootblacking is a very good job for those 
that like it,” he said to himself one day when he 
was unusually tired. “But I believe a Drum- 
mond can do something better. I do n’t like this 
city, anyway. I ’d like to get to live in the coun- 
try and go to school. The country ’s something 
like Lincoln Park, I suppose. All the rich folks 


THE BOOTBLACK 


9 


are crazy to get to it in summer, so of course it ’s 
nicer than the city.” 

But how ? He was entirely alone. The other 
bootblacks whom he knew thought him queer. 
And as for him, he thought they were no fit com- 
pany for a Drummond. “ Not ’cause they ’re boot- 
blacks,” he carefully explained to himself, “but' 
’cause they talk rough, and ain’t above doing 
mean tricks.” 

He was a bright little fellow, and he knew 
there were societies that found homes for poor 
children in the country. But someway he did 
not like to have any society find a home for him. 
He was glad that nobody seemed to think he 
needed any help. “ 1 do n’t want to be a nohject^^' 
he said to himself. “ If I do get me a home I ex- 
pect to work for it. I do n’t want nobody to 
think I ’d sit down and take what I could get up 
and earn.” 

Warmer and warmer grew the days until June 
had come. Soon the tenements would again be 
unbearable with summer heat and crowding. 
“ Guess if I want me a home I ’ll have to 
be my own society and just go and hunt one. 
And I won’t be a tramp neither, for I ’ll be 
looking for something, and they ain’t looking 


10 


DAN DRUMMOND 


for nothing but to get along without doing any- 
thing.” 

He had managed to save a little money and had 
it safely hidden. Perhaps there would be enougli 
to buy his food for a week, and he could sleep out 
of doors. 

He was polishing a shoe when the thought came 
to him, and he paused a second, brush in air, and 
then redoubled his efforts until the shoe was 
finished. But his mind had worked faster than 
his brush, for, when the gentleman tossed him a 
coin, he said, “ Thank you, sir, and good-bye.” 

“ Going to leave the city ? ” asked his customer 
good-naturedly. 

“ Yes, sir, I ’m going to-morrow.” 

“ Good luck to you, my boy,” said the gentle- 
man kindly, as he made room for his successor. 

The bootblack was unusually busy that day 
with “shines” and good-byes, and if good wishes 
were ever burdensome he would have been fairly 
weighed down, for all his customers liked him. 

There was one thing to be thought of. The 
rent for his closet of a room was always paid two 
weeks in advance. “’Cause,” he had said to 
himself with a shrewdness belonging to his 
scrambling life, and not to his years, “ if I get 


THE BOOTBLACK 


11 


sick I ’ll not be likely to be put on the street, for 
I can get well in less than two weeks, I hope.” 

The boy had never been sick in his life, and so 
had set two weeks as ample time for recovery 
from any illness that was likely to come to him. 
“ Of course,” he had explained to himself, “ there 
are some that are sick all the time, but I’m dif- 
ferent.” 

Now there was still a week until the rent came 
due again. “ I do n’t want to wait, and I do n’t 
want that room to go to waste. What shall I do ? ” 

Swiftly he thought. There was one girl in the 
tenement, a frail, nervous child who had some- 
times done a little mending for him. And the 
close, stale air of the crowded rooms which she 
shared with father, mother, brother, and sister 
Avore upon her. He had it. Mattie should have 
his room that week. It had an outside window 
and she could breathe better there. He hurried 
to tell her about it, for he liked girls and women. 
His gentlemen, as he called his customers, liked 
them too. They took off tlieir hats to them, 
helped them in and out of cabs, and on and off 
the street cars, and held store doors open for 
them, and smiled upon them, and spoke pleasantly 
to them. He had seen and heard them. 


12 


DAN DRUMMOND 


If one of his gentlemen were in his place, and 
going to leave the city with his room rent paid 
for a week ahead, he would want Mattie to have 
the room, of course. And so the boy made haste 
to offer her this courtesy. 

“What you going for? Aren’t you coming 
back any more?” asked Mattie’s mother. 

“ No,” said the boy in answer to the last ques- 
tion. 

“ You will,” said the woman shrewdly. “ The 
country is a lonesome place, I tell you, and more 
particular to them that ’s used to the city. But 
Mattie ’ll be glad of the room for a week. So 
much noise does n’t agree with her. I like it my- 
self, and would n’t live in the country if you ’d 
give it to me.” 

The boy opened his eyes. “Why, the country ’s 
beautiful,” he said. 

“ Ever been there ? ” asked Mrs. Burton. 

“No, but I’ve been to Lincoln Park over on 
the North Side, and I s’pose that ’s like it.” 

“ Well, it ain’t, then,” was the response. 
“ There ’s weeds in the country, and long, dusty 
roads with fences alongside of ’em, and a good 
bit o’ ways between houses, and nothing going on, 
and mud when it rains, and work all the time, in- 


THE BOOTBLACK 


13 


doors and out. You never see a crowd witliout 
you go to the nearest little town, and not then 
without it ’s show day or Fourth of July.” 

“ But is n’t there grass there ? ” asked the boy 
anxiously. What if he were making a mistake ? 
Rich people liked strange things sometimes. Sup- 
pose the country should be one of them! 

“ Oh, yes, there ’s grass I ” 

“And trees, and sky, and birds?” followed 
breathlessly. 

“ Yes,” admitted Mrs. Burton. “ I was brought 
up on a farm but I married a city man and here I 
am, and here I ’m going to stay. I like it,” she 
concluded defiantly. And then a far-away look 
came into her eyes. 

The “city man,” a garbage cart driver, now 
lounged in, his face red with drink, and the boy 
with a significant nod of good night fled to his 
room. For the “ city man ” was likely to make 
things unpleasant when he had been drinking. 


CHAPTER II 


TRAMPING 

The next morning the “ city man ” went out, 
and the boy, having made all things ready for 
leaving, went to the rooms of the Burton family 
with his key. 

“Mother had a room to herself all the time 
when she was a girl,” said Mattie shyly, as he put 
the key into her hand. Her eyes were bright 
with happiness. “She was tellin’ me about it 
last night when father had got to sleep.” 

Then Mrs. Burton came to the door, and he 
shook hands with them both, lifted his hat to 
them, and was off. 

His only baggage was the small sum of money 
in his trousers pockets, and his heart was light, for 
he had left the tenement as a gentleman and a 
Drummond should — with kindness to the women. 

Fifteen cents at a bakery bought him a lunch 
put up in a box, and then he made his way to the 
Chicago & Rock Island depot. Wh}^ he could 

hardly have told, except that Rock Island had an 
14 


TRAMPING 


15 


attractive sound to him. And yet there is noth- 
ing attractive in the word “rock” either. It 
must have been the “island” that charmed him. 
He followed the track on foot, and after a while 
came out in the open where ugly houses stood on 
stilts on the flat prairie, and where every now and 
then were little suburban towns. He followed 
the track all day, and at night was not clear of 
the outskirts of the great city. 

“ The country is a long way off,” he sighed, 
“ but I ’m going to it.” 

That night he slept under a shed and the next 
day bought his breakfast, had a lunch put up, and 
started on. But not to follow the track very long. 
A wagon road running in sight in the same gen- 
eral direction lured him off. On he trudged all 
that day and the next, with liberal rests thrown 
in. Sometimes he saw a tramp, and more often 
lie was himself mistaken for one, to his indigna- 
tion ; for, having no mirror, he did not know that 
he was to the full as dust-begrimed and disrepu- 
table-looking as any of the vagrant brother- 
hood . 

“ Well,” commented an old lady when the boy 
had laid down what he considered a fair price for 
the cold bits he had received, “ I never saw a 


16 


DAN DBUM3I0ND 


tramp before that offered to pay for what he got. 
I ’ve seen them that pretended to want to work, 
but I never saw one that wanted to pay money for 
what he got.” And she gazed at him over her 
spectacles as if she never expected to see his like 
again. 

Under all the tan of wind and sun that he had 
accumulated in his brief wandering, and under all 
the dust that overlaid the tan, the boy blushed. 

“ I ’m not a tramp ! ” he said vigorously. 

“ Law sakes ! ” ejaculated the old lady looking 
him over. “ What are you then ? You look like 
one.” 

“Well, I’m not. I’d like to buy a lunch if 
you ’ll put me one up.” 

The old lady looked at him still more curiously. 

“ What for ? ” she asked mechanically. 

“ So I won’t have to stop at noon if I do n’t 
want to. I do n’t like this being taken for a 
tramp.” 

The old lady bestirred herself more actively 
than the boy had thought possible, and presently 
came back to the door, which she had taken the 
precaution to shut in his face upon leaving it. A 
good-sized box was in her hand. 

“ There,” she said, “ I shut the door because 


TRAMPING 


17 


I m afraid of tramps and never let them come into 
the house.” 

The boj began to look indignant. 

“ Now do n’t get mad,” said the old lady. “ I 
believe you ’re a nice boy. Nice boys will get all 
dirt the same as bad ones sometimes. And when 
a body ’s got as good a habit as shutting the door 
to keep out tramps, stick to it, says I.” 

The boy smiled. “Am I all dirt ? ” he asked. 

“ You are. You are awful dirty. I believe a 
body could e’enamost plant a garden on you and 
have it grow.” 

The boy laughed. “ I have n’t seen myself 
since I left Chicago,” he said, “ and sleeping 
nights in my clothes has got them wrinkled, I 
suppose.” 

“ I suppose so, too. Now it ’s against my rules, 
but I ’ll tell you what I ’ll do. Go to the pump 
and wash yourself good, and I ’ll let you have a 
towel.” 

“ Thank you,” responded the boy, with a bow, 
and a lift of the hat which surprised the old 
lady and sent a shower of dust down on the 
owner. 

“Now where ’d he get them manners?” queried 

the old lady silently. “ I ’ve seen boys right in 
2 


18 


DAN DRUM3I0ND 


good families that you could n’t beat manners 
into, to save you. I believe he tells the truth. 
Paying for what he gets and being polite to an 
old woman are two things I do n’t believe any 
tramp ever did.” 

“ Wait a minute, boy ! ” she called, and hurried 
into the house and out again. “ Soap ’s what you 
need. I never furnished a stranger with soap 
and towel before, either. ’T is n’t safe, you see.” 

The boy smiled. He rather liked this old lady 
with her independent ways. 

“Now I’m not a bit prying,” she went on 
when she could really see his face, “ but I wish 
you ’d tell me where you ’re going and what you ’re 
going for.” And she looked kindly at him. 

The boy laughed heartily. “ Not prying, in- 
deed ! ” he thought. “ What does she call it 
then?” But he was willing to answer. “I’m 
going into the country to find me a home,” he 
said. 

“Well, you’re in the country now,” said the 
old lady. 

“ I know it. And I ’m going to begin to look 
to-day.” 

“Well, we don’t need any boys here,” and she 
handed him the box that was filled with the best 


TRAMPING 


19 


she had, and took his coin in return, “ but I ’ll 
just give you a sort of a hint. Keep on being 
willing to pay for what you get, and do n’t forget 
your manners, and you won’t hunt long.” 

Again he lifted his hat as he took the box and 
started down the path to the road. 

“ Pay for what you get and do nt forget your 
manners. Pay for what you get and do 71' t forget 
your manners f hummed the little ex-bootblack to 
a tune of liis own as he trudged down the road 
looking about him. 

“ That was a nice old lady,” he thought, “ and 
she was n’t a bit prying.” Then he laughed, and 
stopped laughing to go on humming, “ Pay for 
what you get and do nt forget your mannersP 
Then a thought struck him. 

“Why, tliat ’s what my gentlemen always did,” 
he said. “ They always had manners even for 
me. That’s a smart old lady. ^ Pay for what 
you get and do nt forget your manners,’’ Tliat ’ll 
do for a Drummond to go by. I ’ll not forget.” 

He looked back, but the place where tlie old 
lady lived was out of sight, hidden by a fringe of 
willows that lined the road and hung their lower 
boughs down over the fence. Then he came to a 
bend in the road. Should he turn around the 


20 


DAN DRUMMOND 


corner and go south or keep straight on? A look 
to the south decided him, for there, a quarter of 
a mile away, stood a comfortable-looking house. 

“ I believe I ’ll try that house,” he said. “ My 
money ’s most gone, and if I should have to beg 
I ’d be a tramp in spite of myself.” 

He tried the house and found there a cross 
looking woman, a surly man, and a fierce dog. 
No boys of any sort were wanted there, and glad 
enough our boy was of it ; but for all that he did 
not forget his manners, thougli the only effect of 
his lifted hat was to call forth a stare. 

“ Next house ! ” he cried cheerily to liimself, 
reaching into the box for a slice of delicious cake. 
The bread and butter would keep. But the next 
house was nowhere in sight, though diligent 
trudging after a while brought it to his view. 

“What can you do?” asked the farmer who 
answered his knock. He was a large, heavy man, 
and lie eyed the slight little figure before him 
doubtfully. 

Now during the three days of his journey he 
had anticipated that question and had with much 
care prepared his answer. He knew, young as he 
was, that to pretend to know what he did not 
know was a sure road to failure and disgrace. 


TRA3IPING 


21 


even if such a course had been honorable to a 
Drummond. So he looked calmly up at the big 
man and said: “I can’t do any lifting, and I 
never was on a farm a day in my life, so I do n’t 
know what there is to do. But I can try to do 
just what you tell me.” 

“Well!” said the farmer staring. “Guess I 
never saw anybody just like you before. What ’s 
your name ? ” 

“Drummond,” replied the boy proudly. 

It was one o’clock and the farmer was about to 
return to the field. He glanced through the win- 
dow into the kitchen where his wdfe, a tired-look- 
ing woman, moved listlessly about her work. 
Then turning back to the waiting boy he said, 

“ Hired girl left yesterday morning. Got mad 
at something or other. You are n’t above waiting 
on the women, are you ? ” 

“ No, sir,” was the prompt answer. 

“ Well, then, you go right into the kitchen and 
do everytliing my wife tells you. And see to it 
you help her all you can. She ’s about beat out.” 

“ All right,” said the boy. 

“Say,” said the farmer turning back again, 
“ what ’s your first name? ” 

“ Dan.” 


22 


DAN DRUBBIOND 


“Hum! that’s a good name. None of those 
soft, sickish names you sometimes hear nowadays 
till you do n’t know from the sound of them 
whether folks are calling their dogs or not. I 
can’t abide ’em. Give me good names with some 
sense to ’em,” went on the farmer wrathfully, for 
names were his hobby. “ I do n’t know what the 
women folks think their boys are coming to when 
they give ’em such names. It’s ’noiigh to sink a 
boy to have to lug ’em ’round, I know that. I ’d 
just as soon call a boy Towser as Alplionso my- 
self.” 

And away went the farmer, while Dan looked 
after him wondering. 


CHAPTER III 


A GIRL-BOY 

Through the open window Mrs. Brink, the 
farmer’s wife, had heard her husband’s instruc- 
tions to Dan, and she gave him a wan smile as he 
entered the room lifting his hat politely and then 
returning it to his head. Thus had Dan seen the 
gentlemen whom he thought it fitting for a Drum- 
mond to copy salute the ladies of their acquaint- 
ance. But having never seen a gentleman in- 
doors, he did not know that a hat was an article 
for outdoor wear exclusively. 

Mrs. Brink was not particular, however. The 
polite bow she appreciated, and she was used to 
seeing men and boys wearing their hats in the 
house. The table had been cleared. 

“Do you know how to wash dishes?” she 
asked. 

“ No, ma’am,” was the respectful answer. 

Mrs. Brink sighed. The hired girl who had 
just left in dudgeon did not know how either; 

and, what was more, she did not propose to have 
23 


24 


DAN DBUM3I0ND 


Mrs. Brink show her. The ashes of her greasy 
dishcloth were now in the ash-barrel and Mrs. 
Brink, with a new cloth, began to show a boy 
how to wash dishes. 

It did not take him long to learn, for Pay for 
what you get and do n't forget your manners " was 
yet ringing in his mind. “ I ’ve got to get board 
and lodging and washing and a new shirt here,” 
he said, “ and work is all I ’ve got to pay with. 
Good work ought to be as good as good money. 
No counterfeits,” said this twelve-year-old boy, 
made old by life on city streets. 

This is nothing at all to bootblacking,” he 
told himself. “ Pretty warm day to be having 
your hands in hot soapsuds, and I never had an 
apron on before, but I guess I can stand it.” 

All that afternoon Mrs. Brink instructed Dan, 
and witli every task he mastered her face grew 
more rested looking. 

“Do you think you can remember to morrow, 
Dan ? ” she would ask anxiously. 

“ Yes, ma’am. That is, I can try.” 

“ Well, Dan,” she said when supper was on the 
table, “if ever a boy earned his supper and night’s 
lodging you ’ve done it this afternoon. Are n’t 
you tired ? ” 


A GIRL- BOY 


25 


“Yes, ma’am,” answered truthful Dan. “But 
I guess walking so much and not having a bed to 
sleep in has made me more tired than working. 
I ’ve heard say traveling is hard on a body, and 
when you foot it into the bargain, why it is 
hard.” 

Mrs. Brink looked sympathetically at the boy’s 
thin face. She had been tired so much herself, 
poor soul ! And she took away the glass of 
skimmed milk she had put at his plate, and in- 
stead placed there a glass of milk with the cream 
stirred in. Dan’s quick eyes noted it, and he 
smiled with satisfaction. “Women are so awful 
good,” he thought. “ No wonder gentlemen are 
polite to them, and help them all they can.” 

It was a bountiful supper, and the farmer was, 
as usual, very hungry. Biscuits and butter and 
honey and milk and cold meats and cake and pie 
all disappeared down his capacious throat, while 
Jiis wife, taking a mouthful now and then, recited 
Dan’s praises to him. 

But Dan’s look of pleasure at the recital 
changed to one of wonder as the farmer seemed 
to think it something remarkable that he should 
not have been above waiting on a woman. Dan 
had observed that gentlemen always assisted 


26 


DAN DRUMMOND 


ladies in every way that they could. He knew 
that the men and boys among whom his lot had 
been cast looked down upon women and girls as 
their inferiors ; that they snubbed and slighted 
them and demanded waiting upon at their hands. 
But all this he had set down as being character- 
istic of those that were not fit company for a 
Drummond. And he could not see why it was 
any more beneath a gentleman to help a woman 
in the liitcheii than to help her in the street. So, 
in his child’s mind, he could not approve of Mr. 
Brink. He measured him by his gentlemen, and 
he found Mr. Brink at fault. 

“And so you can’t do any lifting, hey?” said 
the farmer when he had finished eating. His 
supper had made him good-natured and ready for 
a joke. “Well, well, that’s bad on a farm ! ” He 
laughed and went out to sit on the cool porch. 

Dan flushed a little as he began to gather the 
dishes together. But Mrs. Brink said with spirit, 
“ Yes, he can do lifting. He can lift a mighty 
big load off my shoulders.” 

“ Glad of it,” called back Mr. Brink. “ Glad 
of it. Just let him keep on lifting that way, and 
he ’s welcome to stay.” 

And now Dan perceived that Mr. Brink was 


A GIRL-BOY 


27 


really a kind-hearted man who wished his wife to 
have all the help possible. And yet he looked 
down on Dan for being willing to give it! The 
boy could not understand it, though he thought 
of it when he went to bed. “ I ’ll stick to my 
gentlemen,” was his last waking thought. 

It was a peculiarity of Dan’s nature, and one 
that had been wisely strengthened by his mother, 
that no criticism nor influence, not even ridicule, 
could turn him from what he believed to be right. 
And his life since her death had further de- 
veloped it. He had seen rude and rough boys 
jeering at what even to his childish eyes seemed 
far above them ; and he had come thus early to 
see that a thing laughed at and scorned was not 
necessarily bad, or worthy of such treatment. 
He was so afraid, too, that some day he might 
have to face the Drummonds, stained in his own 
consciousness with a mean act, that he watched 
carefully his gentlemen and copied them as per- 
fectly as he could. 

So it came to pass that when he had been 
six weeks with Mr. and Mrs. Brink he felt that 
he must look farther for a home. He could not 
have explained why, but this was the reason — the 
atmosphere did not suit him. The little waif had 


28 


DAN DBUM3I0ND 


been gifted with a fine and noble nature which 
blindly sought externals suited to it. There 
were no books at Mr. Brink’s, no magazines and 
no papers with the exception of one weekly. 

“ That ’s all I want,” said Mr. Brink. “ It ’s 
got the markets, and that ’s enough.” 

Neither did he sympathize witli Dan’s desire to 
go to school, and although he was glad to have 
his wife receive the benefit of Dan’s help about 
the house, every day, the sensitive boy perceived 
more clearly that the big, burly man thought less 
and less of him for being willing to render it. 

He began to see why Mrs. Burton had hated 
the farm. What if the grass and sky and birds 
were there, if one never had time to look at 
them ; and if the people about thought one queer 
for wanting to do so ? Grass in the spring was 
for grazing, and later for hay ; birds were to pro- 
tect the crops; and as for the sky, Mr. Brink 
only looked at it to predict what the weather 
would be. 

Dan did not hate the farm yet. He only 
thought he must look for a different kind of a 
farmer. He knew they were not all like Mr. 
Brink, even in that neighborhood, but he could 
not bear to stay anywhere else near by and know 


A GIRL-BOY 


29 


that Mrs. Brink would be hurt by it. So he re- 
solved to go a long way farther west. 

For Mrs. Brink had grown very fond of the 
boy who did his work so well and, at the same 
time, was so thoughtful for her and so respectful. 

“ I never took such comfort with anybody,” she 
declared. “ I do n’t have to watch him a mite. 
If I tell him to do a thing it’s as good as done. 
His mother must have been an awful nice wo- 
man.” 

“Yes,” admitted Mr. Brink. “He’s a likely 
enough little feller round the house, but he ’s noth- 
ing but a girl -boy. Won’t amount to much when 
he’s a man, I reckon.” 

“Well, he’s going to-morrow morning,” re- 
joined his wife with a sigh, “ and what I shall do 
without him, I do n’t know.” 

The next morning Dan stepped into the kitchen, 
clean and shining, arrayed in a fresh gingham 
shirt, a pair of stout jeans trousers, and bare 
ankles and feet. A homely toilet, but five dollars 
in his pocket filled the boy’s heart with content 
and made him face the future free from care. 

“ When that ’s gone I can earn more,” he had 
thought as he dressed, and then the old lady came 
into his mind. His old lady, he called her, and 


30 


DAN DRUMMOND 


wished that he might see her once more. Pay 
for what you get and do n't forget your manner he 
hummed again and then he had gone down-stairs. 

Mrs. Brink at sight of him felt a sudden loss 
of appetite for breakfast. She had no children, 
but she imagined that if she had had, they would 
have been like Dan, and it seemed like losing her 
own to let him go. 

But she said nothing. It was her husband who 
did the talking, and he entertained the boy by 
giving him a minute program of what he intended 
to accomplish that day. Dan listened respectfully, 
as was his wont, but the words went in at one ear 
and out at the other. It was but a child who sat 
there, after all, upon whom the farmer was pour- 
ing out the treasures of his experience with all 
sorts of farm difficulties, and all the eager excite- 
ment of a child was in his heart as he looked for- 
ward to his journey. 

Mrs. Brink trifled with her teaspoon and let 
her coffee get cold while she looked at him. 

Self-reliant his lot had made him, and worldly 
wise in some ways beyond his years. But the 
soul that in the midst of sordid surroundings had 
lifted itself up looked out from his innocent eyes. 

Her husband bade the boy farewell and went 


A GIRL-BOr 


31 


out to liis work but still Mrs. Brink said nothing. 
Even when he slung the small package containing 
the mate to his shirt and a clean handkerchief on 
his shoulder she was silent. But when the broad- 
brimmed straw hat went on, almost eclipsing the 
boy, she spoke. 

“Dan,” the tone was wistful and hesitating, 
“ you ’re going a long way off. Do you think 
you ’re too big to kiss me good-bye ? ” 

“.Why, no ! ” cried the boy. “ Of course I ain’t.” 

Off went the hat on the floor and the lonely 
woman folded the boy in her arms and burst into 
tears. 

“ O Dan, Dan ! how I would have liked to keep 
you always ! ” she sobbed. “ But there, there,” 
she said, controlling herself, “I reckon it’s best 
you should go.” And she picked up his hat her- 
self and set it again on his head. 

“ Good-bye — dear,” she said. 

The little fellow, carrying his enormous lunch- 
box under his arm, walked down the path with 
many a backward glance and out into the road to 
begin anew his search for a home. 

“ Good-bye, Dan ! ” called the farmer from the 
field. 

And Dan called back, “ Good-bye ! good-bye ! ” 


CHAPTER IV 


A minister’s boy 

The heat was scorching as, one of fortune’s 
little pilgrims, he walked along. But he was a 
lucky little pilgrim, for there seemed always to be 
a team going his way. 

Sometimes he walked short distances, but not 
often. And so in good time he reached the Miss- 
issippi and crossed it at Rock Island. 

Then on again west he went. And always, 
as before he crossed the river, he found farmers 
going a few miles his way, who gave him chances 
to ride behind strong young horses that swung off 
at a good gait, and he advanced at a fine pace. 

Regularly Dan offered to pay every time he got 
down from a wagon or buggy, and just as regu- 
larly he was informed that paying for a ride was 
not the custom of the country. Once in a while 
some farmer who had boys of his own and so felt 
an interest in Dan, took him home and kept him 

over night without charge. And never did five 
33 


A MINISTER'S BOY 


33 


dollars last so well as did the five in the pockets 
of the jeans trousers. 

Toward evening of the ninth day of his journey, 
which was Saturday, he found himself in a beau- 
tiful rolling prairie country and three hundred 
miles from the city. He looked around him in 
delight. Far as the eye could reach at Mr. 
Brink’s the fields had stretched perfectly flat. 
Here was the most picturesque scenery in minia- 
ture. And that night he lay down on the side of 
a straw stack feeling that he had reached his jour- 
ney’s end. 

The next morning he slept late, and he was still 
drowsing when the ringing of a bell sounded in 
his ears. He was wide awake in an instant and 
sat up to listen. 

“ There ’s a church here ! ” he exclaimed delight- 
edly. “ Where there ’s a church, there ’s a minis- 
ter. Ministers always know a lot. I ’ll get to be 
the minister’s boy, and maybe if I do the best I 
can for him, he ’ll teach me.” 

Dan’s stay at Mr. Brink’s had modified his 
hopes. He no longer included school in his im- 
mediate plans. To learn a little as he worked 
was his thought now. And who could teach him 

so well as a minister ? 

3 


34 


DAN DRUMMOND 


He wanted to go to see about it that very day, 
but, reflecting that the minister might think he 
was wicked to come on such an errand on Sun- 
day, he restrained his impatience and decided to 
wait until Monday. That was a long, long day 
to Dan, for he spent it alone in the field. 

When the evening bell rang he lay down beside 
the stack to sleep again, and slept so well that 
very early in the morning he found himself stand- 
ing before the minister’s home. A small, plain 
house it was, and besides the minister there lived 
in it his wife, a frail, delicate woman, and three 
tiny tots of girls, the youngest of whom was two 
and the oldest six. 

Someway the boy felt that he should succeed, 
and he knocked with confidence at the door. The 
minister himself, a pleasant young man of thirty- 
five, opened it, and then with those wonderful 
dark eyes fixed upon the gentleman before him, 
for Dan knew he was a gentleman, the little fel- 
low said, lifting his hat politely, “ If you please, 
sir, I want to be your boy.” 

Mr. Hilbert looked at him in surprise, but he 
invited Dan into the house and gave him a chair 
before he said in a puzzled tone, 

“You want to be my boy I ” 


A MINISTER'S BOY 


35 


“ Yes, sir, I want to come and live with you, 
and do your chores, and help round at whatever 
there is to do, and then maybe you ’ll teach me, 
sir.” 

“ Where are your relatives ? ” asked the min- 
ister. “How does it come that you are here 
alone?” 

“ I do n’t know where they are,” was the reply. 
“ They ’re somewhere. I never saw them, but 
maybe I shall some day,” and he lifted his head 
proudly. 

Mr. Hilbert looked at him thoughtfully. There 
was something about Dan that strongly prepos- 
sessed him in his favor, and the minister was fond 
of helping people. Still, it would hardly do to 
take even a boy into one’s family without know- 
ing a little about him. So he asked, 

“Where have you spent your life?” 

“In Chicago. I was a bootblack,” said the boy 
simply. “I had a good business, but I thought it 
was n’t just the thing for a Drummond. I wanted 
to get out into the country and find me a home 
where I could learn.” 

“ Have you come directly from Chicago here ? ” 

“No, sir. I was six weeks at Mr. Brink’s, about 
thirty-five or forty miles out of the city.” 


36 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ Why did n’t you stay there ? ” 

“ They were good to me, but I could n’t stay. 
They didn’t think anything at all of learning.” 

Dan’s courage began to fail. What could so 
many questions mean but that the minister did 
not want him ? Mr. Brink had asked him what 
he could do, but Mr. Hilbert seemed to want to 
know all about him, and gave no hint of asking 
him to stay. Dan’s head began to droop. He 
must learn. What would the Drummonds think 
of him when the}^ met if he did n’t ? 

“ Ah ! ” said Mr. Hilbert at last. Then look- 
ing at his wife, “ Addie, what do you think of it ? 
We ’ve never had a boy. Shall we take him ? ” 

Dan turned quickly toward her. Women had 
always been his friends. He looked at the placid 
young face with its kind blue eyes, and his con- 
fidence returned, even before she answered im- 
pulsively, 

“ Yes, let us take him.” 

Now the minister and his wife were not used to 
boys and they hardly saw what they should do 
with Dan. Mrs. Hilbert, when she began to con- 
sider, which she did at once while she prepared 
the breakfast, could not help owning to herself 
that she had been a little hasty. There was the 


A MimSTEE^S BOY 


37 


garden — he might weed that, if he were not like 
riiad Duncan, who never weeded except under 
compulsion. There was the horse to be taken 
care of — but any one could see that Dan was too 
small for that. His scant living in the city had 
interfered with his growth, and he was short for 
his years. 

And then there were the children to be looked 
after. Mrs. Hilbert’s face lightened at that last 
thought and then clouded again as Moses Baxter 
came to her mind. Moses had a large flock of 
brothers and sisters j^ounger than himself, and he 
simply would not care for them. Mrs. Baxter 
used to say that it was easier to care for them her- 
self than to compel Moses to do it. 

And the minister, as he handily dressed his 
little girls, was thinking too. 

Now Dan’s sharp young eyes saw the two 
sober faces. “ They ’re sorry they said I could 
stay,” he thought. “I don’t know why, but 
they are.” 

Dan knew nothing of Thad Duncan or Moses 
Baxter, nor did he guess what a slim purse the 
minister had. Though he lived in the country, 
he was no farmer. He occupied the church par- 
sonage and tilled, rather unsuccessfully, its two 


38 


DAN DRUMMOND 


or three surrounding acres and his salary was 
very small. 

“ I ’m to blame,” thought Mrs. Hilbert, “James 
left it to me to decide.” 

“It’s my fault,” Mr. Hilbert told himself. “I 
ought not to have asked Addie when I know how 
impulsive she is. I might have known she could 
not find it in her heart to send a boy adrift.” 

And thus silently the breakfast went on and 
was over at last. 

With a despondent feeling that he had never 
known before, Dan rose from the table. “ I wish 
I had n’t come,” he thought. “But I have. Now 
fay for what you get and do n't forget your man- 
nerSi" he quoted. Then aloud, “ Mrs. Hilbert, if 
you ’ll give me an apron I ’ll clear the table and 
wash the dishes.” 

Such an astonished look as she turned upon 
him ! She tried to imagine Thad or Moses saying 
such a thing as that, and she failed. And without 
a word she handed him the apron. 

Mrs. Brink was an extremely neat housekeeper, 
and her training showed to advantage in the 
ministerial dining-room and kitchen that morning. 
Even the minister stood by to watch. And as for 
Mrs. Hilbert, as she looked on she forgot the 


A MINISTEB^S BOY 


39 


garden, and the horse, and the care-taking of the 
children, and even Thad and Moses. Here was 
a burden that had long been too much for her, in 
conjunction with her many other tasks, lifted 
from her. 

“This is all James’ doing,” she thought. “He 
referred this matter to me, and gave me the chance 
to decide.” 

“I am glad I left it to Addie,” thought Mr. 
Hilbert. “ Her impulses are generally right.” 

And Dan thought gleefully, “ They ’ve changed 
their minds. I ’m glad I came.” 

The minister had no study, for the house was as 
small as possible, so he used the little front room 
which was sitting-room and parlor as well. Dan 
looked about him there that afternoon. Books, 
books, books everywhere, and papers and maga- 
zines, too. “ This is the place,” thought the boy 
with satisfaction. 

And the books were for the family, Dan no- 
ticed. Mrs. Hilbert and Edna, the oldest child, 
read, while the younger ones looked at pictures 
with trained hands that neither soiled nor tore the 
leaves. And Dan himself was cordially bidden 
to this mental feast. “ I ’ll have to do a lot to pay 
for all this,” he thought. 


40 


DAN DRUMMOND 


Late August came on ; and often on moonlight 
nights Dan thought of the great beautiful lake, 
and his gentlemen, and of the Burtons, and his 
old lady, and Mr. and Mrs. Brink, but never with 
regret for the step he had taken in leaving them 
all behind. 

“ This is the place,” he repeated more than once 
with emphasis. 

He did not put his admiration into words ; but 
the hills, some of them crowned with trees, and 
some of them with the cut grain standing in shock 
on their slopes, the green spreading pastures 
where the cattle grazed, with here and there 
clumps of trees under which they stood at noon- 
time, the broad expanse of sky with clouds afloat 
upon it, the stillness, and the occasional song of a 
bird, filled him with enjoyment. He liked the 
plain little church built on a level place, and sur- 
rounded by trees ; and the muddy river, with its 
bed cut deep in places and fringed with bushy 
growth ; of little account, the river, except as it 
gave the county something to do in keeping its 
bridges in repair. It was not very near, to be 
sure, but already Dan had seen it, for the minister 
occasionally took him with him in the old buggy, 
and he had been with the Hilberts now two weeks. 


A MINISTER'S BOY 


41 


Two weeks, and the simple home seemed more 
his than any other spot he had lived in. For at 
last he had come to the place he fitted: where 
high ideals were cherished, and gentle living prac- 
ticed ; where the aim of life was to rise to higher 
level, and help all they could up with them. 


CHAPTER V 


IN SCHOOL 

Out by the straw stack the church bell had put 
the hope into Dan’s mind that, perhaps, if he did 
all he could for the minister, the minister would 
teach him — teach him a little now and then, at 
odd minutes, when he was not needed about the 
work. But different things were in store for Dan. 
Mr. Hilbert and his wife both thought that he 
ought to go to school, so to school he was sent. 

“ I can’t go,” Dan had protested when it was 
proposed. 

“ Why ? ” asked the minister in surprise. “ I 
thought you wanted to learn.” 

“I do, sir. But I must do my work first, and I 
can’t get done in time to go to school.” The in- 
dependent little fellow looked distressed. 

“ You can do enough at odd times and Satur- 
days to earn all that we shall give you,” said the 
minister smiling. 

“Do you mean it?” asked the tongue and 
eager eyes. 


42 


IN SCHOOL 


43 


“ Yes. Now will you go ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, yes ! ” said the boy ; and then, “ How 
good you are to me ! ” 

“ Why, what should we do without you, Dan ? ” 
asked Mrs. Hilbert smiling. 

The serene blue eyes had a benignant look in 
them as she spoke, and the boy felt there was 
nothing he could do to repay that look. He did 
not know that his own eyes were shining with 
gratitude. 

Never a boy took his books one by one from his 
desk with more satisfaction than did Dan on that 
first morning of the fall term. At last he was in 
the way to make himself a fit representative of 
the Drummonds, and he hardly knew which lesson 
to learn first, because he wanted to learn them all 
at once. Not much like the ordinary schoolboy, 
and not at all like Thad Duncan and Moses Bax- 
ter, who found school a bore and lessons a nui- 
sance. But then Thad and Moses had not set out 
to keep up the family honor. They, with all the 
rest of the boys, thought Dan queer. He was 
evidently bright, but he was so far behind where 
he ought to have been. And then he did not 
know how to play. He had never really played 
in his life. The girls, however, thought him de- 


44 


DAN DRUMMOND 


lightful. In the short time he had been at Mr. 
Hilbert’s they had become acquainted with him, 
and he never forgot to speak to them ; and wher- 
ever he met them he politely lifted his hat. He 
did so that first morning at school. 

“ Dude ! dude ! ” sneered Thad and Moses. 

And he calmly answered as he raised his eyelids 
in surprise, “ Gentlemen always lift their hats to 
ladies.” 

“ How d’ you know ? ” demanded Thad. “ Did 
you ever see ’em do it ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Was they ministers? ” asked Moses curiously. 

“No.” 

“Well, nobody but ministers does that out 
here.” 

Dan made no reply. He instinctively knew 
better than to criticise the customs of a neigh- 
borhood to its face. And he had found out that 
Mr. Hilbert thought exceedingly well of his pa- 
rishioners, so he took them at his benefactor’s rat- 
ing. He could believe that they were very good 
men indeed, and yet he would follow his own 
gentlemen. 

“ Say ! ” went on Thad, who liked to stir up 
strife, “ why do n’t you say nothin’ ? ” 


IN SCHOOL 


45 


Then the bell rang. 

The next day Dan lifted his hat to the girls as 
usual. 

“ You think you ’re better ’n we are ! You think 
you ’re some ! ” yelled Thad. 

Dan’s eyes flashed. “ I ’m not thinking about 
you at all,” he answered. “ I ’m trying to do the 
best I know, and ” with a determined look, “ I 
shall keep right on trying.” 

Thad looked sharply at him. If Dan had 
quailed before him in the least he would have 
struck him. But Dan was used to rough boys, 
and he knew himself to be tough and wiry, so 
he turned away with a look of indifference and 
Thad thought him queerer than ever. 

“ Do you think he can fight ? ” he asked doubt- 
fully. 

“ I know he can,” returned Moses confidently. 
“ You ought to see the muscle he ’s got on him.” 

“ Then that ’s another of his gentleman notions, 
I s’pose,” said Thad discontentedly. “ I ’ve seen 
pictures of men and boys fighting down in Chi- 
cago in them story papers; but I never saw 
pictures of gentlemen lifting their hats, nor 
turning their backs and walking off instead of 
fighting.” 


46 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ Yes, but you was looking in them papers Mr. 
Hilbert says ain’t fit to read.” 

“How does he know?” said Thad. “He 
do n’t read them, does he ? ” 

“No. I asked him that once, and he said, 
‘ How do I know poison ’s poison? I do n’t have 
to take it to find out.’ ” 

“ Had you there, did n’t he ? ” grinned Thad. 

“ He did that. I do n’t read them any more, 
either.” 

“ Since when ? ” asked Thad derisively. 

“Since mother found them and burnt them up. 
She talked to me awful solemn, and said if I 
would n’t promise she ’d tell father. So I prom- 
ised. I might as well promise without father’s 
knowing as with. You know father. No getting 
round him.” 

Thad shrugged his shoulders. “ They ’re awful 
exciting,” he said. 

“Yes, they are. But mother says they’re lies, 
and that sort of takes the edge off. She says 
they ain’t true to life at all, and all they ’re for 
is to make scamps and ruffians out of good boys.” 

“Like you?” sneered Thad. 

“Yes, sir, like me,” said Moses manfully. 
“Mother says so. I ain’t awful good, I know, 


IN SCHOOL 


47 


but mother thinks I ’m good enough to be spoiled, 
and so I ain’t going to be, not by them papers, 
anyway.” 

At this Thad sniffed and went off singing 
loudly, “ Good little Moses ; he ain’t spoiled.” 

Poor Moses ! he was not a bad boy, if he did 
object to caring for his small brothers and sisters, 
and that taunting scrap stung. He wished he had 
held his tongue about what his mother had said. 

“ Good little Moses ; he ain’t spoiled ! ” sang 
Thad again. 

Dan heard and looked around. He saw Moses* 
burning face, and the manner that tried and failed 
to look unconcerned. Two or three running steps 
brought him alongside of Thad. 

“ Just hold up that song, will you ? ” was all he 
said. But there was a look in his eyes that added, 
“ Or I ’ll make you.” 

Now down in his heart Thad was a coward. 
He therefore did as Dan requested him, and at 
his leisure pondered the queerness that made a 
boy indifferent to fighting on his own account 
and at the same time ready enough to put a stop 
to the tormenting of others. 

At the end of a week Dan had the hearty dis- 
like of the boys. He showed an independence of 


48 


DAN DRUMMOND 


them and their way of thinking that they thought 
a newcomer ought not to show. 

“ He had ought to be paid up for it,” said Thad 
Duncan ; “ cornin’ here and stickin’ up his nose at 
the rest of us when he do n’t know nothin’.” 

“ That ’s so,” corroborated Tom Waring. “ He 
can’t even play ‘ One Old Cat.’ ” 

*‘See him catch the ball on the end of his 
finger day before yesterday ?” asked Joe Whit- 
man with a chuckle. 

“He don’t even know enough to run to the 
home base,” commented Will Motley in disgust. 
“ J ust stands there like a ninny while we ’re 
a-yellin’ ‘ Run ! run ! ’ ” 

“And that ’s a Chicago fellow ! ” said Thad with 
an extreme and elocutionary emphasis on Chicago. 

Only Mose said nothing. He could not forget 
how Dan had compelled Thad to let him alone, 
and he also remembered that Thad was quick to 
assault anybody when he dared, and just as quick 
to lead the other boys on to do the same. 

Thad now cast a glance of anger and suspicion 
at his former friend, and then he went on: 
“Them that wants to take up with Chicago 
fellers, let ’em.” 

Mose flushed. 


IN SCHOOL 


49 


“ And them that wants Chicago fellers to do 
their fightin’ for ’em, let ’em have ’em,” added 
Thad. 

Mose wiggled his hands uneasily in his trousers’ 
pockets. “ Some folks is too gentlemanly to fight, 
and ’specially when they ’re ’fraid to,” ended Thad 
as he marched off with the others. 

At that moment Mose, left alone, wished that 
he had never heard of Dan. He felt the world to 
be a hard place, for Thad was merciless on who- 
ever withstood him. 

It was the noon recess, and it lacked still some 
fifteen minutes of one o’clock when Mose, happen- 
ing to lift his disconsolate eyes, saw Thad and Joe 
and Tom and Will each tearing along toward his 
own home. 

“Somethin’ ’s up,” said Mose. “ Wish’t I knew 
what.” 

Across the playground he could see Dan play- 
ing “ Drop the Handkerchief ” with the girls. He 
knew enough to play “Drop the Handkerchief,” 
anyway, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. 
Not so much, however, that he could not keep an 
eye on Edna Hilbert, for, at that moment, he 
slipped out of the ring, picked up the little girl, 
4 


50 


DAN DRUMMOND 


brushed the dust off her apron, shook her sun- 
bonnet and put it once more on her head, all the 
time smiling so cheerily that the child suddenly 
came to the conclusion that a fall was not worth 
crying about, and went happily off with Susie 
Baxter. 

“ I ain’t like nobody,” said Mose bitterly. “ I 
ain’t polite like Dan, and I ain’t a fighter like 
Thad. I ’m just Mose Baxter, and I wish Dan 
had n’t never come here.” 

Presently back came the boys who had been 
home. Mose could see their heads clustering to- 
gether under a tree, out of sight of Dan and the 
girls. And they were laughing as they talked. 

“Couldn’t get a thing!” exclaimed Will Mot- 
ley. 

“ Here ’s a bunch of ma’s pansies,” said Thad. 

“And here’s some of Net’s sweet peas,” said 
Tom Waring. 

“ I could n’t get but three asters,” said Joe 
Whitman. “They’re grandma’s, and I didn’t 
want to have no fuss with her.” 

“What’s he doin’ now?” asked Thad. 

“ Droppin’ the handkerchief with the girls,” 
answered Joe Whitman, taking a few steps and 
craning his neck to see. 


IN SCHOOL 


51 


“Well, I ’m a-goiiig to do it,” declared Thad. 

“All right,” said Tom. 

“We do n’t care who does it, so it’s done,” ob- 
served Joe. 

J List then the bell rang, but no Thad Duncan 
entered with the others. The teacher had called 
his name, and was giving him a tardy mark when 
he tiptoed into the entry, took Dan’s hat and 
slipped out again. 

“ This hat needs trimming,” said Thad to him- 
self, as he sped away to a convenient place north- 
west of the schoolhouse. A window behind the 
teacher’s desk looked out upon him. Thad 
glanced up at it. “ If Miss Afton had eyes in 
the back of her head, she might see me,” he 
chuckled. “But no danger, I guess. Now, shall 
I put two asters in front and one behind, or one 
in front and two behind ? They ’re the biggest 
flowers I’ve got; and between you and me, I 
don’t believe Joe’s grandma knew he took ’em. 
I know I looked out for ma when I picked the 
pansies. Women ’s so pernickety about anybody’s 
picking their flowers, ’specially boys. I didn’t 
yank any up by the roots either, if I was in a 
hurry.” 

Just at this moment the point of Miss Afton’s 


52 


DAN DRUMMOND 


pencil broke. She set up the lid bf her desk to 
look for her sharpener. The sharpener was mis- 
laid. Hurriedly but noiselessly she began to rum- 
mage. To have it out of her way, she set up 
against the desk lid a mirror that lay in the bot- 
tom of the desk, and she saw Thad. She said 
nothing, however, but sharpened her pencil and 
called a class. 

“Pansies is for thoughts, teacher said,” went 
on Thad, unconscious that he was observed. 
“ Guess when that Dan gets this hat he ’ll think 
somebody has had thoughts of him.” 

Inside the schoolhouse the recitation went on, 
and those who never studied, and so were free 
to let their minds wander, wondered why the 
teacher kept her desk lid up. 

“ These sweet peas are great,” remarked Thad, 
when the asters and pansies were placed. “Do n’t 
they stick up atop the crown in great shape, 
though? I’m aching to see this hat on Dan. 
’Course he would n’t put it on himself, all trimmed 
up. But when he ’s had a good hunt and can’t 
find it, I ’ll slip up behind him, and slap it on his 
head, and he ’ll be so glad to get it he ’ll never 
take it off to look at it. Wish some woman 
would come along and he ’d lift his hat to her ! 


IN SCHOOL 


53 


Guess, mebbe, she ’d laugh in his face. I would, 
anyway.” 

He held the neat straw hat up on his hand to 
get the effect, and Miss Afton, with one eye on 
the glass, got the effect, too. 

“ That ’ll do,” said Thad. “ Gay as any of the 
rest of the girls’ hats, that is. This old rabbit 
trap comes in mighty handy. Won’t anybody 
think of looking under that.” 

And he slipped the hat under the old trap that 
had been left there since the last winter. 

“ When you want to pay anybody up, there ’s 
lots of things come handy,” said Thad, as he 
sauntered toward the schoolhouse door. 

Then the lid of the teacher’s desk came down. 

“ Why are you late, Thad ? ” asked Miss Afton 
severely, as the impromptu milliner entered the 
room. 

“ Had to do something,” mumbled Thad in a 
low tone. 

“Very well,” said Miss Afton. “Take your 
seat.” 

Pleased with his apparent good fortune, Thad 
obeyed, and made a very fair pretense of study- 
ing until five minutes before recess time, when 
Miss Afton installed Annetta Waring in her place 


54 


DAN DRUMMOND 


and left the room. Straight to the trap she 
walked, lifted it, took out the hat and untriinmed 
it, leaving the flowers under the trap. Then she 
returned to the schoolhouse, hung the hat in the 
entry, and once more took her place at her desk. 

The last boy out at recess was Thad. “ Who 
done that?” he exclaimed in astonishment. For 
there was no bareheaded boy seeking a lost hat, 
but Dan was enjoying himself as usual, and never 
a flower was in his hatband. But he was a little 
enlightened when an hour later Miss Afton said : 
“Thad Duncan will remain after school for being 
tardy.” 

All the boys were going to Whitman’s as soon 
as school closed, to play circus with Joe’s colt. 
The teacher knew it, too, but Thad stayed in, 
nevertheless. 

“ I ’ll get even with that Dan for this, see if I 
do n’t ! ” thought Thad angrily. “ Missing all my 
fun, and the circus, and everything.” \ 

It was just time for Thad to go to the pasture 
and bring up the cows when Miss Afton saw fit 
to let him go. 

“ I wonder what the boys are doing now,” said 
Thad, as he let down the pasture bars. “If 
there ’s anything I like it ’s a circus, and I ’d ’a’ 


IN SCHOOL 


55 


got there same as the rest if it had n’t ’a’ been for 
that Dan. Should n’t wonder if I ’d ’a’ been ring- 
master, too. Here comes old Broad Back,” he 
went on as a particularly ungainly cow advanced 
to the bars. “I believe 1 could ride her bare- 
back.” 

By riding bareback Thad meant riding in some 
other position than sitting astride. Visions of 
himself standing on the ball of one foot with his 
other leg stretched out behind him in the air sud- 
denly overcame him. He hastily climbed the 
fence, and, as old Broad Back was stepping into 
the road, from the topmost rail, with a loud whoop, 
Thad bounded upon her back. 

Away went Broad Back. But no Thad stood 
in triumph on the ball of one foot with his other 
leg stretched out behind him. Instead, he lost 
his footing and sat heavily down. 

“What’s struck me now?” thought the terri- 
fied animal, as, with a snort and a plunge, she un- 
seated Thad and tumbled him into the dirt. 

Thad arose presently, but something was the 
matter with his arm. He found out when he got 
liome that he had cracked one of the bones, and 
the next week he carried his arm in a sling. 

“ It ’s that old Dan,” muttered Thad. “ If it 


56 


DAN DRUMMOND 


hadn’t been for him I’d ’a’ had enough circus 
over to Whitman’s and would n’t ’a’ thought of 
riding Broad Back.” 

Thad’s cracked arm gave Dan a chance to play 
with the boys. They needed him to make out 
their game and so, instead of sneering at his 
ignorance, they began to teach him, and they 
taught him so successfully that almost before 
they knew it, “ One Old Cat ” held no more mys- 
tery for him. And long before Thad was able to 
play again Dan was the best player in the school. 
For he played as he did everything else — with all 
his might. 

What was the use of holding a grudge against 
a good fellow just because he was polite and came 
from Chicago? So thought Joe and Tom and 
Will, and they acted accordingly. The majority 
of the small school had never objected seriously 
to Dan, and now there were left only Thad and 
Mose to be won over. 

“Makes me sick,” said Thad. “’Nough to 
make anybody sick to see how that Dan gets 
’round the teacher and ’most everybody. But he 
won’t get ’round you and me, Mose, I tell you.” 

Mose smiled a faint smile, and fingered the 
marbles in his trousers’ pockets. What if Thad 


IN SCHOOL 


57 


knew that he was coming to admire Dan so much 
that he was secretly imitating him ? 

“ You do n’t say nothin’,” said Thad suspi- 
ciously. 

Mose was very glad to hear the bell ring just 
then. 

A month had now gone by, and faithful as Dan 
had been at school he had been still more faithful 
to his home duties, and now the Hilberts were 
determined never to give him up. He had made 
a place for himself in their hearts and their lives, 
and in the slender purse there would always be a 
portion for Dan. 

The minister and his wife were young and im- 
pulsive and when, they had once decided the mat- 
ter they were eager to offer themselves as parents. 
That evening in the plain little front room there 
was but a pretense of reading, and finally Mr. 
Hilbert threw down his paper. 

“ Dan,” said he, “ how would you like to be our 
own boy ? ” 

“ I am your boy,” was the reply. 

“ I mean, Dan,” said Mr. Hilbert with a smile, 
“ how would you like to be our adopted son, and 
call me father and my wife mother ? ” 

Quickly the boy’s astonished eyes went from 


58 


DAN DRUM3I0ND 


face to face, and as he saw the affectionate, ex- 
pectant looks that rested upon him his own face 
reflected the love and gratitude of his heart. 

But he did not answer at once. The one pur- 
pose of his life was to be true to the Drummonds. 
Through hardships he had not lost sight of it, and 
now, here was prosperity come to tempt him. 
How could he refuse when they had done so 
much for him? And yet, he could not do as they 
wished. 

Not natural for a child to reason so, you think. 
Not natural for all children, certainly, and es- 
pecially for those daintily reared and carefully 
shielded. But the same nature that was one day 
to make him a distinguished «man made him a 
thoughtful boy and different from others. Re- 
gret was in his voice and fear of giving pain 
when at last he said, “ I can’t be your son, Mr. 
Hilbert. I ’m a Drummond, and I must keep my 
name. But if I might call you Uncle James and 
Mrs. Hilbert Aunt Addie, I should be glad, for I 
love you both dearly.” 

Fancy Thad or Moses telling two people that 
he loved them dearly ! They might have loved, 
but they would have thought it quite unmanly to 
own it. 


IN SCHOOL 


59 


The Hilberts saw his feelings ; so they covered 
their own disappointment and made his mind 
easy by accepting him as their nephew. 

“ He is the strangest little fellow, Addie ! ” ex- 
claimed Mr. Hilbert when Dan had said good- 
night. “ I never knew such a mere child as he is 
to think anything about his name before. No 
grown man devoted to good birth and breeding 
could think more of his family than he does. It’s 
remarkable.” 

“ He is a remarkable boy,” was the rejoinder. 

“ Drummond ! ” repeated Mr. Hilbert. “ It ’s a 
name I know nothing about.” 

“Professor Drummond?” suggested Mrs. Hil- 
bert. 

“ Ah, yes ! But Dan could n’t very well be 
connected with him.” 

“Dan says the Drummonds are a fine family,” 
went on Mrs. Hilbert ; “ that he heard a gentle- 
man say he had never known one of them to do a 
mean act..” 

“ And I suppose he thinks he must stick to the 
name and live up to the honor of the family,” 
smiled the minister. 

“ Yes, he has the romantic temperament that so 
often accompanies genius. He has a great idea 


60 


DAN DRUMMOND 


of meeting the Drummonds some day and being 
worthy of them. He ’s a dear little fellow.” 

The next day Dan strove harder than ever to 
please. 

“ They Te not just Mr. and Mrs. Hilbert now. 
They ’re my uncle and aunt, so of course I must 
do more for them,” he thought. 


CHAPTER VI 


TAKING CARE OF THE CHILDREN 

That next day was Saturday, and how much 
work Mrs. Baxter had on hand for that day, only 
she herself knew. 

“ If only I could get Mose to take care of the 
children to-day,” she thought, as she hurriedly 
twisted up her hair. “ I ’m going right to his 
room now to call him, and I ’ll ask him. I 
have n’t the strength to-day to compel him.” 

“ Yes’m, I will,” said Mose. “Dan does it for 
Mrs. Hilbert, and I ’ll do it for you to-day.” 

“ Of course, Mose,” Mrs. Baxter assented has- 
tily. “ I ’ll be glad to have it done just for to-day. 
I ’ll mostly dress them, but if you could fasten 
their aprons, and wash their faces, and comb their 
hair, and keep them out of danger, and see that 
they ’re clean for their meals ” 

“ Yes ’m,” answered Mose dutifully. 

“ If I had time I ’d be surprised,” said Mrs. 
Baxter to herself, as she hurried to the kitchen. 

“ There ’s one thing about Mose — if he says 
61 


62 


DAN DRUMMOND 


he ’ll do it, he will. How he ’ll do it, I can’t say. 
But it will be better than no help at all.” 

“Let’s see,” said Mose as he dressed, “there’s 
four of the littlest ones. Looks easy when Dan 
does it — guess I can make it. I ’m not to wake 
’em, ma says. Take ’em one at a time as they 
come. Wish folks did n’t wake mey 

Mose was sitting on the front fence waiting for 
the first of the little ones to waken when Thad 
came along on his way home from the pasture. 

“Come on over to our house and play,” said he. 

“ Can’t,” replied Mose. “ Got to stay home to- 
day.” 

“ Stay home a-Saturday ! ” exclaimed Thad. 
“ What you goin’ to do ? ” 

“ I ’ve got to help ma.” 

“ I do n’t see you doin’ nothin’.” 

“ I can’t yet. They ain’t any of ’em up.” 

Without a word Thad passed on. “Traipsing 
after a lot of young ones all day ! ” he thought. 
“ This is some more of that Dan.” 

Mose looked a little uneasily after the depart- 
ing Thad, who was setting his bare feet down un- 
necessarily hard in the dust. But he did not look 
long, for his mother called ; “ Mose, Susie ’s ready 
for her apron ! ” 


TAKING CARE OF THE CHILDREN 


63 


What queer things buttons are when they are 
on a small girl’s back ! and how does one ever get 
the buttonholes and buttons to match? Patiently 
Mose fumbled at his unaccustomed task. He be- 
gan at the neck. For two buttons down all went 
well. But the third button was off. So Mose 
buttoned the fourth button into the third button- 
hole and let it go at that. To be sure, there was 
a strange hitch in the back of the apron, but 
Susie could not see it, and nobody else noticed. 

“You’re getting to be a handy boy, Mose,” 
said his mother as she handed him the comb, and 
hurried off. 

Buttoning aprons was nothing to combing hair, 
as Mose soon found. But he worked away, while 
Susie danced about and fretted. 

“Girls’ hair is awful,” thought Mose. “I do n’t 
believe ma has noticed how long Susie’s hair is, 
and she hain’t had time to do nothin’ about it if 
she has. Ma ’s awful busy all the time.” 

He wrinkled up his face and stopped thinking 
in his efforts not to pull too hard, but it was all 
of no avail. 

“ Ow ! ow ! ” cried the little girl. 

“ Tell you what, Susie,” said Mose brightening. 
“ You hand me the shears. I ’ll comb real easy. 


64 


DAN DRUM3I0ND 


and when I come to a dreadful snarl I ’ll just cut 
it off. Your hair’s too long, anyway.” 

Susie handed the shears, and the tangles were 
soon disposed of. Mose stood her off to look at 
her. 

“ She do n’t look just right,” he thought, “ but 
she ’ll have to do. Ma ’d better not see her just 
yet, though. Ma ’s busy.” Then aloud, “ Susie, 
you go out on the front doorstep and I ’ll bring 
your bowl of bread and milk there. We ’ll play 
picnic.” 

“All right,” said Susie. “You’re as nice as 
Dan.” 

But would Dan have cut Susie’s hair? Mose 
hoped that, under the circumstances, he would. 

Susie had just finished her breakfast, and Mose 
had artfully tied her sunbonnet strings in a hard 
knot under her chin when his mother called him 
again. 

“ Guess that bonnet won’t come off,” said Mose. 
“Ma ’s too busy to see Susie’s hair now. ’T would 
be better if she did n’t see it till morning. 
Mebbe it ’ll grow some over night.” 

By nine o’clock the four little ones were all. up 
and dressed, and Mose was having a wearisome 
time of it. “ It ’s worse than school or pulling 


TAKING CARE OF THE CHILDREN 


65 


weeds,” he thought, “ ’cause some wants things 
one way, and some wants ’em another, and them 
that do n’t get it their way just yell. Dan does 
it as if ’t was n’t nothing at all, but I can’t. Won- 
der what Thad ’s doin’.” 

While Mose was wondering, tfte baby, who was 
just able to run alone, fell down and got a severe 
bump ; Susie snagged her apron ; and \^^lie and 
Annie slipped through the fence and down the 
dusty road toward Whitman’s. 

“ Wish ’t was dinner time,” said Mose when 
once more he had the four safely on the front 
doorstep. 

“ Say, let ’s play Injin,” he suggested after 
drumming with his heels for a whole minute. 

“ If I keep ’em playin’ pretty busy mebbe 
they ’ll get tired and go off to sleep,” he thought! 
He did not know that by playing too hard they 
would become too tired to sleep and could only 
be what his mother called “ fractious.” 

The little ones were very ready to play Injin. 

“ Do n’t you stir off this step while 1 run and 
get a tin of water,” commanded Mose. “ First 
thing is to paint up.” 

Around the house dashed Mose, while the little 
5 


4 


66 


DAN DRUMMOND 


ones sat expectant. Presently back he came, 
and the little ones had not stirred. 

“ It’s a wonder you ain’t done something while 
I was gone,” said he. “ But you ’re pretty good 
children, I guess. Now you sit still while I go 
out into the road for some dust.” 

The little ones obeyed. And it was a very nice 
paste of thin mud Mose had stirred up in the cup 
when, one# more, he came back. 

“Now, Susie, off* with your bonnet. I’ll paint 
you first, ’cause you ’re the biggest.” 

“ Can’t,” said Susie. “ ’T won’t untie.” 

“ ’T won’t ! ” exclaimed Mose, who had forgot- 
ten his own hard knot. “Let me see.” 

In vain he tugged at the knot. “ Hum ! ” 
said he at last. “I don’t believe anybody can 
untie this, not even mother. I ’ll just have to 
cut it.” 

Out came his knife, and in a second the strings 
were cut. 

“ A bonnet do n’t really need strings, anyway,” 
said Mose. “They’re just for style, I guess. 
Women’s clothes have got lots of things just for 
style.” 

“ Yes,” agreed Susie. “ Style ’s nice.” 

“ Nice ’nough for girls,” answered Mose, 


TAKING CARE OF THE CHILDREN 67 

loftily. “ But here ! Before I begin to paint I 
must have some feathers for 5^our hair. Don’t 
you touch that cup till I get back.” 

“ No,” promised Susie. 

It was not far to the barnyard, and Mose was 
soon back with a handful of quills. 

“ Wasn’t none loose,” he said, “so I just pulled 
these out of the rooster’s tail. It ’s time he was 
moultin’, anyway. Some of the hens is done long 
ago.” 

The children listened respectfully until their 
big brother had finished his explanation, which 
was made more to his own conscience than to 
them, and then, “ Bitty fedders,” observed the 
baby. 

“ That ’s what they are,” said Mose, laying them 
carefully out of the little fellow’s reach. 

Again he stirred up the mud in the cup, and 
then using his fingers for a brush, he streaked 
Susie’s face in a truly dreadful manner, while the 
others looked on in awe-struck admiration. 

“ She looks like old Billy when he ’s been roll- 
ing in the mud,” commented Willie, the boy next 
younger than Susie. 

Old Billy was a white horse. 

“She looks like an Injin squaw,” said Mose, 


68 


DAN DRUMMOND 


reaching for the feathers, and proceeding to 
tangle two or three in his sister’s hair. 

“Lucky your hair’s long as it is, Susie,” he 
said. “ These feathers would n’t stay in very 
good if it was n’t. Now wait while I run and get 
one of mother’s aprons to wrap round you for a 
blanket.” 

The little girl waited, and very shortly stepped 
out, to Mose’s imagination, a full fledged Indian 
squaw. 

“I tell you, I wish Thad was here! We could 
have a ‘Wild West’ show. Mebbe he’ll be 
cornin’ along ’bout the time I get the rest of you 
fixed.” 

It was now Willie’s turn. His face was soon 
done, but his hair was so short that Mose was 
puzzled to know how to make the feathers stay in 
it. 

“ Hairpins would do it,” suggested Annie. 

“ Right you are I ” cried Mose. “ Do n’t any 
of you stir while I go hunt ’em. I can’t ask ma. 
She ’s busy.” 

Mrs. Baxter was pretty orderly, and the hair- 
pins were soon found. 

“ My, but you make a cute little chief, Willie,” 
said Mose when he had finished. 


TAKING CARE OF THE CHILDREN 


69 


“ Is my face as dirty as Susie’s? ” 

“ Dirtier,” said Mose. “ I wish Thad would 
come.” 

“ ’Cause, if it is,” pursued Willie, “ ma ’ll be 
mad. She do n’t like us dirty.” 

“ Oh, well, you have to be dirty when you ’re 
playin’ Injin,” said Mose. “ There ain’t any clean 
Iiijins. Why, tliey eat dug.” 

Tlien Annie, who was next younger than 
Willie, set up a wail. “ I won’t be dirty and eat 
dog. I won’t be dirty and eat dog.” 

“ Hush up ! ” said Mose. “ Do 3^011 want ma to 
hear you when she’s busy? You don’t have to 
eat dog. We ’re just a-playin’.” 

But Annie continued to weep loudly; and Mrs. 
Baxter heard and came running. Mose, who had 
passed by Annie, had just got the baby’s face well 
smeared when his mother rounded the corner of 
the house. 

“ Why, Moses Baxter ! ” she exclaimed. “A 
-lice help you are to me ! Now do you get a pan 
of water and wash their faces quick. Dinner’s 
’most ready.” 

“ Children ’s awful, and I guess I do n’t want to 
be like Dan,” mused Mose, as he vigorously used 
the washrag. 


70 


DAN DRUM3IOND 


“ He ’s doing the best he can, I suppose,’’ 
thought Mrs. Baxter as she went back to her 
work. “ I must have patience with him.” 

Two pieces of pie fell to Mose at dinner, and 
he was encouraged to go on. He had been in- 
structed, as he left the table, that the little ones 
must have their afternoon nap. 

‘‘ My,” said Mose to himself, “ if I could just 
get ’em to sleep, and then Thad should come 
along!” 

He would have no trouble with Susie, for she 
went of her own accord every afternoon and lay 
down to sleep. “ If I hold the baby and get 
Willie and Annie to lie down, mebbe the same 
singin’ will do for all three. I ’m a-goin’ to try it 
anyway,” said Mose. 

So busy was he thinking of all the enjoyable 
things that might happen if only Thad would 
come that he paid no attention to the little ones, 
who, feeling themselves neglected, soon began to 
fret. 

“ Tell you what ! ” said Mose when a cry more 
peevish than usual aroused him, “j^ou’re sleepy. 
That’s what’s the matter with you.” 

“ Ain’t seepy I ” indignantly protested the 
baby. 


TAKING CARE OF THE CHILDREN 


71 


Mose did not know his youngest brother very 
well, or he would never have mentioned the word 
sleep. 

“ Ain’t seepy ! ” repeated the baby, who wanted 
the question settled. 

But Mose paid no attention. “ Guess I know 
whether he ’s sleepy or not,” he thought. 

“ Ain’t seepy ! ” said the baby again, and this 
time with a stamp of the foot. 

At this Mose only grinned and started off for the 
old rocking-chair. Presently he came back, and 
as the baby saw himself about to be pushed into 
slumberland willy-nilly he screamed with all his 
might, “ Ain’t seepy ! ain’t seepy I ain’t seepy ! ” 
till Mrs. Baxter came out to see what was the 
matter. 

“ Ain’t seepy ! ain’t seepy ! ” cried the baby 
running to his mother. 

“ Mose ! ” said Mrs. Baxter, reproachfully. 

“Well he is,” answered Mose, half-defiantly. 
“What’s he so cross for, if he ain’t sleepy?” 

“ I think,” said Mrs. Baxter after she had 
soothed the baby, “that Willie and Annie and 
baby would like to play concert.” 

“ You did go to a concert,” said Annie. 

“ Yes,” smiled Mrs. Baxter. Then turning to 


72 


DAN DRUMMOND 


her oldest son, “ Mose, run into the house and 
get the old shawl and spread it here on the grass/’ 

Mose ran. 

“Now,” said Mrs. Baxter, “ Willie and Annie 
shall have reserved seats on the shawl, and Mose 
shall sit in the rocker and sing, and baby shall sit 
on Mose’s lap. Mother can’t stay to the concert; 
she ’s too busy ; but she knows it will be nice.” 
Then as she turned to go, she said in Mose’s ear, 
“Never tell a baby he ’s sleepy.” 

“ Not when he is ? ” queried the astonished 
Mose. 

“ No. He will not believe you, and will only 
make you trouble.” 

Mose reflected while he lifted up his voice in 
an unmelodious roar that passed for a song. 
“ Must be babies are pig-headed,” he said to him- 
self at last; and he looked down with conde- 
scending pity on the head resting on his arm. 

The very next Monday he settled Joe Whitman 
by saying to him, “ You ’re as pig-headed as our 
baby.” 

The two boys had been having a fierce dispute 
but Mose ended it. In the face of such an ac- 
cusation as being as pig-headed as the Baxter 
baby Joe had no more to say. 


CHAPTER VII 


FLY PAPER 

It was on that same Monday, at morning re- 
cess, that Mose was restored to partial favor in 
Thad’s eyes. 

“ I s’pose you like baby tendin’ ’bout as well as 
Dan by this time,” sneered Thad. 

“Well,” answered Mose frankly, “I just don’t. 
I never saw such a day as Saturday, and ma 
did n’t like it yesterday morning either, when she 
saw how I ’d cut Susie’s hair.” 

“ What ’d you cut it for ? ” asked Thad. 

“ Why, to get the snarls out, of course,” an- 
swered Mose. 

Thad looked unenlightened, and so Mose went 
on ; “ There ain’t any girls to your house, and so 
I suppose you do n’t know that their hair grows 
long, and as fine as the finest thread, and it snarls 
up dreadful ’cause it ’s a little curly, and so when 
I come to a snarl I just cut it off.” 

Thad gave his imagination rein for a moment, 
73 


74 


DAN DRmiMOND 


and then he said, “ If that ’s the way you cut it, 
she must have been a sight.” 

“ That ’s what ma said she was.” 

“ Somethin’ like a singed cat,” went on Thad. 

“ She wa’ n’t either,” cried Mose indignantly. 
“ You could n’t make no singed cat out of my sis- 
ter, no matter what you done to her.” 

“ If I ’d ’a’ been doin’ it,” pursued Thad, ignor- 
ing Mose’s protest, “ I ’d ’a’ combed down just so 
far, and then I ’d ’a’ run for a big bowl and put it 
on her head, and cut to it. She ’d ’a’ been even as 
a barber could ’a’ made her then.” 

“ Barbers do n’t put bowls on people’s heads,” 
answered Mose scornfully. 

“No,” admitted Thad, “not after they get their 
trade learned, ’cause then they do n’t have to.” 

Then he changed the subject by going back 
to the beginning of the conversation. “ I ’m glad 
you ain’t going to be like that Dan anyway. I 
was afraid you was.” 

Mose hesitated. “ Well, I ain’t like him,” lie 
said, “ ’cause he likes taking care of the children, 
and I do n’t. But I ’ve got it to do every Satur- 
day this fall, ’cause I promised ma I would when 
she was so put out about Susie’s hair.” 

Thad looked at him a moment half disgusted. 


FLY PAPER 


75 


“ You can’t fool me, Mose Baxter,” he said. 
“ You ain’t true blue against that Dan. You 
never used to care whether your mother was put 
out or not, so ’s you did n’t get a lickin’.” 

Mose flushed guiltily. 

“ What you gettin’ red in the face for, if what 
I say ain’t so ? ” went on Thad. “ Now we sha’ n’t 
have a single Saturday to play together, and we 
used to be chums before tliat Dan got here.” 

“You can come over to our house and play,” 
put in Mose pacifically. 

“Not much,” returned Thad promptly. “I 
do n’t play with babies, myself.” 

Then Mose summoned a little courage. “Well, 
I’ve got to play with ’em,” he said. “And I 
guess you would, too, Thad Duncan, if you had 
’em.” 

“ I guess I would n’t,” retorted Thad. “ I ’d 
just like to see anbody make me. And you 
wouldn’t, either, before that Dan got here. 
Who’s he to go turning things upside down and 
spoiling everj^thin’ ? ” 

And with much bitterness Thad, as the bell 
rang, marched into the schoolroom where he pres- 
ently' slammed out his arithmetic on the top of 
his desk with such violence that he received a 


76 


DAN DRU31M0ND 


reprimand and a bad mark at the same time from 
Miss Afton. 

“ More of that Dan,” he thought angrily as he 
scowled at the handsome boy who sat quietly 
studying. “Do you s’pose I ’d ’a ’ slammed that 
book that way if it had n’t been for him ? ” 

But the next Saturday Mose did not care for 
the children, after all. Instead, he drove his 
mother to town. For two days and two nights 
she had liad toothache, and she was about frantic. 
So Mrs. Hilbert had undertaken the children, and 
Mose harnessed up old Billy. 

Now Mrs. Baxter was very timid about horses, 
and Mose, with Dan before his eyes, had come to 
tliink it a pity to have a woman frightened, espe- 
cially when she was his mother. 

“ Old Billy ’s all right, ’cept when the flies light 
on him, and then he just goes,” said Mose to him- 
self. “ Wish ’t I could fix him.” He buckled the 
harness and thought. “ Why, I can ! ” he ex- 
claimed. 

Into the house he dashed. The children were 
gone, his father and the men were in the field, 
and nobody was there but his mother, who sat 
with her hat on patiently waiting for Mose. 

“Be here in a jiffy now, ma,” he called cheerily. 


FLY PAPER 


77 


“I’m just a-fixin’ old Billy so ’s the flies won’t 
make him go so fast. You know what Billy is 
when the flies get after him.” 

His mother tried to smile, and Mose hurried to 
the kitchen and in a moment out of the kitchen 
door to the barn. He carried a pair of scissors in 
his right hand and two pieces of sticky fly paper 
in his left. 

“ What ’s the use of shooing flies away from a 
horse when you might as well catch ’em on him, 
and done with it?” he asked. 

Then he thought of his mother. “ I ’ve just got 
to hurry,” he said, “ for I expect toothache ’s 
awful.” 

Slash went the scissors. “ These pieces is the 
right size now ; but look at them scissorsblades, 
all stuck up ! But I can ’t help it. Stands to 
reason Billy ’s got to be fixed. Now I ’ve got to 
punch some holes to run the string through.” 

In a twinkling the holes were punched, and the 
pieces of fly paper spread on the horse’s fat sides 
and securely tied to the harness. 

Away ran Mose to the well. “ Why, it won’t 
wash off,” he cried. “ I can’t wait. I ’ll just dry 
my hands on the towel and let ’em go.” 

So he did, and in two minutes more Mrs. Bax- 


78 


DAN DRUMMOND 


ter and Mose were on the road to town. Old 
Billy jogged along, and Mrs. Baxter said noth- 
ing. Mose thought: “That ’s a mighty good con- 
trivance! Wish’t Dan and Thad could see it. 
Them flies light right on the paper. I can hear 
some of ’em buzz now, or I believe I can. Any- 
way, 1 could, if the buggy didn’t rattle so./ Ma’s 
toothache is awful, and, of course, if she had to be 
scared into the bargain, things would be worse 
than they are.” 

But there was one thing Mose had not calcu- 
lated upon ; old Billy’s tail was very long, and he 
was accustomed to use it freely. Lash went the 
tail to the left, and a few hairs stuck on the fly 
paper. Lash went the tail to the right, and a few 
hairs stuck on that side. 

“Well,” said Mose, “that’s got to be ’tended 
to. Ma, you just hold the lines a minute. I’ve 
got to fix Billy’s tail.” 

Nervously Mrs. Baxter took the lines, and 
Moses jumped lightly out, caught up the tail, and 
deftly bound it into the wad worn by country 
horses in muddy weather. But he did not touch 
that part caught on the two pieces of fly paper 
for fear of jerking the paper off. Then he 
climbed back. 


FLY PAPER 


79 


“ Now we ’re all right, ma,” he said cheerfully. 
“ Takes me to fix things.” 

Mrs. Baxter’s eyes smiled on him, and away 
they went. But things really were not all right, 
after all. 

“ What ails Billy ? ” thought Mose. “ He acts 
mad, just as he always does when the flies light 
on him.” 

Mose craned his neck. “ They are on him ! ” 
he exclaimed to himself. “ Them mean flies ain’t 
got no sense. What they lightin’ on Billy for 
when there ’s paper for ’em to light on ? ” 

Presently they began to meet people, and every- 
body they met smiled and craned their necks over 
their shoulders to look back at old Billy. But 
Mose did not notice, for old Billy was pounding 
along at a great rate, and he was afraid his mother 
would be frightened, after all. “ The way he ’s 
a goin’ we ’ll soon be there, anyway,” thought 
Mose. 

And pretty soon they were there, and Mrs. 
Baxtef was left at the dentist’s while Mose drove 
old Billy up to the iron rack that surrounded the 
courthouse square. 

“Great scheme, ain’t it? ” observed a neighbor- 
ing stranger at the rack ; and he laughed as he 


80 


DAN DRmTMOND 


pointed to the fly paper upon wliich a dozen flies 
were now caught. 

Mose flushed. “ No, it ain’t,” he returned 
shortly. “ ’T won’t work. Flies ain’t got no 
sense, anyway.” 

The stranger had boys of his own, and so he 
said, “ Suppose we take the paper off before any- 
body else sees it, and undo the horse’s tail.” 

“ Do n’t know but we had better,” said Mose 
sheepishly. 

Nevertheless, the story of Mose Baxter’s patent 
fly net crept around the neighborhood, and for a 
time Mose’s life was made miserable, and particu- 
larly by Thad, who derived great enjoyment from 
Mose’s discomfiture. 

“ That ’s what I get for tryin’ to fix things so ’s 
ma wouldn’t be scared,” said Mose. “I’d just 
like to know why, when I try to do things nice 
like Dan, I always get myself into some mess 
about it.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


A GKANDMOTHER 

Thad’s spirit of animosity toward Dan seemed, 
for a time, to die away within him. It was the 
very first of October, and delightful weather for 
visiting. And Thad was an important boy, for 
his grandmother was coming from Illinois. In 
her honor there would be all sorts of good things 
cooked up at home. Impatient Thad could hardly 
wait. Maybe he would be allowed to stay out of 
school some, too. He was sure he ouglit to, for, 
of course, his grandmother would want to see him 
more than just nights and mornings and Sundays. 
Then he began to wonder what she would bring 
him. Moses did n’t have a single grandmother. 
Moses did n’t have anything much, according to 
Thad, ^ but little brothers and sisters that were 
everlastingly wanting something, and falling into 
danger in perfectly safe places, and taking up 
their eldest brother’s time. 

But if Moses was without a grandmother of his 

own, he could get a little comfort from the pros- 
6 81 


82 


DAN DlimmOND 


pect of Thad’s grandmother coming to visit. His 
mother always had a tea party for Thad’s grand- 
mother, and he rather guessed there would be 
good things for him to eat, too. In fact, every 
boy in school but Dan was interested in tliat visit 
and for the same reason, for Thad’s grandmother 
was popular in the neighborhood. 

It was on Sunday that Dan first saw her. The 
Duncan pew was well forward, while the minis- 
ter’s family sat near the center of the church. 
First came Mr. Duncan down the aisle, then the 
guest, then Mrs. Duncan close behind her mother 
with a look of pride on her face and, last of all, 
Thad, whose plump cheeks seemed plumper by 
reason of the extra good things he had already 
enjoyed. 

Dan looked on with interest as the little proces- 
sion filed into the pew. The guest partly turned 
her face toward him and a sudden smile of intel- 
ligence lighted his countenance. 

“That’s my old lady! ” he thought. 

The moment the services were over the Duncan 
pew was surrounded. Everyone wanted to shake 
hands and to hear a personal word from Dan’s 
cheery old lady. 

Now old Mrs. Halfhill might easily have for- 


A GRANDMOTHER 


83 


gotten Dan’s face. In truth, she had forgotten it. 
But his manner she could not forget. 

“ That ’s my old lady, Aunt Addie,” he had ex- 
plained when the people began to crowd around 
her. So Mrs. Hilbert said when her turn came — 
said with her hand on Dan’s arm — “ Here is some 
one perhaps you remember, Mrs. Halfhill. He is 
our nephew now.” 

Tlie old lady looked at him uncertainly, but the 
way in which Dan greeted her was enough. 

“ There ain’t but one boy with them pretty 
manners ! ” she exclaimed. “ It ’s my little tramp.” 
Dan blushed a little while he smiled, and the old 
lady went on, “ And so you ’ve got to be the min- 
ister’s nephew! Well, I am glad o’ that and T 
ain’t a bit surprised. I want you to come over to 
my daughter’s and tell me all about it. I ain’t a 
mite prying, but I just want to know.” 

Dan laughingly promised to go and tell her. 

“Say,” said Thad, nudging Dan, “why didn’t 
you let on that you knew grandma?” 

“ I did n’t know she was your grandmother,” 
responded Dan. 

“Well, you might have. And you was at her 
house and she gave you good things to eat,” con- 
tinued Thad the next day at school. “Why, 


84 


DAN DRUMMOND 


you might have known that was my^ grand- 
mother.” 

Dan smiled, but made no answer. In some re- 
spects, he found Thad very childish. 

It had been three years since old Mrs. Halfliill 
had seen Thad, and she looked him over with a 
sharp eye that was not well pleased with what 
she saw. It irked her that the minister’s nephew 
was a little gentleman, while Thad was as rude 
as selfish boys are apt to be. 

“ I ’ll do my best for Thaddie while I ’m here, 
and I ’ll stay as long as I can,” she thought, “ but 
he ’s been let to run too long, I ’m afraid. These 
only children are apt to be hard to get along with.” 

“T^in flower-beds of yours is in a bad shape, 
Mehitabel,” said Mrs. Halfhill the third day after 
her arrival. ‘‘A body ’d ’most think to look at 
’em that petunia blossoms grew on foxtail grass.” 

“ T know it, mother, but I ’ve got so much on 
hand that I can’t weed them, and Thad won’t. 1 
never saw a boy more set than Thad when he 
takes a notion not to do anything.” 

Mrs. Halfhill listened, and then politely turned 
the conversation. 

“You’ve a fine lot of chickens, Mehitabel. I 
s’pose you get a good many eggs ? ” 


A GRANDMOTHER 


85 


“ Not so many as we would if I could get Thad 
to hunt them up,” answered Mrs. Duncan with a 
sigh. “ Thad will not hunt eggs.” 

The old lady was silent a few moments. 

“This would be a good afternoon to drive 
’round and see some of the neighbors,” she said 
presently. 

“ Yes, it would,” agreed Mrs. Duncan, “ but the 
horse is in the pasture, and although Thad is out 
of school this afternoon, it ’s no use to ask him to 
catcli Bije.” 

“ I guess I ’ll let Mehitabel start subjects for a 
while,” thought the old lady, with a sympathetic 
glance at her daugliter’s face, which was flushed 
\yith embarrassment. “ Whatever subject I start 
on seems to bring to light something Thaddie 
won’t do. There never was no such boys in my 
time. That ’s one of the modern ideas, that boys 
won’t do this, and they won’t do that.” 

Mr^. Halfhill was sitting by the sitting-room 
window. She now resolutely turned her eyes 
away from the flower beds, and the straying hens, 
and gave her attention to her daughter. 

“Never mind, Mehitabel,” she said. “You 
and me ain’t beholden to the neighbors for a good 
time, though it’s pleasant to see ’em, too. We’ll 


DAN DRUMMOND 


just have a good visit of our own this after- 
noon.” 

Mrs. Duncan smiled gratefully at her mother, 
and said apologetically, “Thad ’s just at the right 
age, you know, to set more store by playing and 
having his own way than anything else.” 

‘‘Right age!” thought Mrs. Halfhill. “Me- 
hitabel must be pretty well blinded when she can 
think there is a right age to be selfish and dis- 
obligin’. But I ’ll say just as little as I can to 
hurt her feelin’s. Thaddie ’ll soon be at the ‘ right 
age ’ to do that, if he keeps on.” 

Just then Mr. Duncan came in. He looked 
warm and tired as he passed through the room to 
get his coat. 

“ Guess I ’ll have to go to town, wife, to get this 
bridle mended, after all.” 

“Why, where ’s Thad ?” asked Mrs. Duncan. 

“ I told him to go,” said her husband, “ but I 
guess he must be off playing somewhere. I can 
go myself easier than hunt him up.” 

“He’s always been let to play so much,” ex- 
plained Mrs. Duncan, “and so he thinks he can’t 
give it up.” 

“Well,” thought the old lady, “Franklin and 
Mehitabel is certainly blinder than bats. But I 


A GRANDMOTHER 


87 


sha’ n’t let ’em see that I notice anything, if I can 
help it. But I see one thing ahead of me. If 
that boy ain’t changed in his ways and that pretty 
quick, too, I ’m a-going to have a grandson to be 
ashamed of. And, for the matter of that, I ’ve got 
him now.” 

She mused a moment. Then she said to her- 
self, “I believe I’ll just take him in hand, and do 
as well as I can by him without hurting his pa’s 
and ma’s feelings.” 

There was one thing that helped the old lady, 
and that was this: however much Thad’s parents 
would endure from him they demanded and en- 
forced implicit obedience to his grandmother 
whenever she was with them. Mrs. Halfhill was 
thinking of this as she lay in her bed that Mon- 
day night, and heard the soft rain coming down. 
“That sounds like a nice rain,” she said. “I 
guess, I ’ll have something for Thaddie to do in the 
morning.” 

Now Thad was in the habit of lying abed of a 
morning until all the chores, except driving the 
cows, were done, thereby getting rid of tasks 
which he hated besides making his mother the un- 
necessary work of preparing an extra breakfast 
for him. It was a quarter of seven the next 


88 


DAN DRUMMOND 


morning and clear, when his grandmother opened 
the door of his room and walked up to his bed. 

“If I stay outside and call, it’ll disturb Mehit- 
abel and spoil everything,” she thought. 

“ Come, Thaddie,” she said, laying a firm hand 
on the boy’s shoulder and giving him a little 
shake. “ Come, Thaddie, I want you to get up 
now.” 

“ Huh ? ” answered Thad sleepily, opening his 
eyes. 

“ I want you to get up right away and come 
down. Your ma ’s out to the dairy, and 1 ’ve saved 
you some breakfast. I shall be back here in five 
minutes by the clock if you ain’t out of bed and 
down -stairs.” 

In vain Thad grumbled and growled to him- 
self as he dressed. His grandmother had said, 
“ Get up,” and he had to obey. 

“ This fresh air is just the thing for you, 
Thaddie,” said his grandmother, smiling upon him 
while he ate. “Your ma do n’t know you ’re up. 
Soon ’s you ’ve done breakfast we ’re going for 
them flower beds, and I reckon we ’ll surprise her. 
You didn’t know that your ma loves flowers and 
hates weeds, did you, Thaddie ? ” 

“ No, ma’am,” mumbled Thad. 


A GRANimOTHKR 


89 


“I thought you didn’t, by the looks of them 
beds. It’s a little late to be weeding, just before 
frost, and a frost would have caught ’em t’ other 
night if your ma had n’t run out and covered ’em. 
But we’ll surprise her. We couldn’t have done 
it if it had n’t been for that gentle rain last night. 
The weeds was so big and the graund so dry that 
we ’d have rooted up flowers and all if we ’d 
tried it.” And again his grandmother beamed on 
him. 

“ Now,” she resumed when she had set Thad to 
work, “your ma can’t see us, and we’ll have a 
change by the time she does.” 

Sulkily Thad began to work. And cheerily his 
grandmother kept him at it till the beds were 
quite presentable. 

“There, Thaddie,” she said by way of reward, 
“ you ’ve done your duty for once. And you ’ll 
just have time to get to school after you drive the 
cows without being late. I knew you could 
work, if you only thought so.” 

Without a word, Thad went off. 

“ He ’s just mad enough to be saucy, if he 
dared,” reflected the old lady. “ But Franklin 
and Mehitabel has taught him better than to 
sauce his grandmother, anyway. My, but them 


90 


DAN DRUSniOND 


flowers is sweet, now that the weeds is out of 
them! It’s a wonder they ain’t dead, though, 
after being swamped so long.” 

At dinner time Mrs. Halfhill smiled sweetly on 
the still sulky boy, and at supper time she did the 
same. The next morning she forbore to rout him 
from his bed, and smiled on him when he came 
late down the stairs. 

“One victory ’s enough at a time,” she thought. 
“ I ’ll let him go till he gets home from school to- 
night.” 

Thad, however, did not know what his grand- 
mother was thinking. And, all unsuspecting, he 
came home after school that night to find her 
waiting for him. 

“Thaddie,” she began, “I believe from the 
looks of ’em, that them hens of your ma’s is 
good layers. Let ’s 3^ou and me go and hunt eggs. 
I ’ll stand b}" and hold the basket, and you can do 
the climbing and hunting.” 

“ I was goin’ over to Whitman’s,” objected Thad. 

“Was you?” said his grandmother in her 
kindest voice. “ Why, you was over to Whit- 
man’s yesterday evening. Let’s liunt eggs to- 
night. You can go over to Whitman’s some 
other time,” 


A GRANDMOTHER 


91 


With as bad a grace as he dared, Thad obeyed, 
while the old lady thought, “ Eggs is some price, 
now, and Mehitabel may as well have a little extra 
pin money as not.” 

“Wish these old eggs was in Guinea,” mut- 
tered Thad, as he searched the loft. 

Patiently, and even cheerfully, Mrs. Halfhill 
waited while Thad hunted, and carefully she 
counted what he brought her each time in his 
hat, before she transferred them to her basket. 

“Five dozen eggs,” she proclaimed when the 
search was ended. “ That ’s entirely too many to 
go to waste. I guess, Thaddie, that you and I 
will hunt eggs every evening while I ’m here.” 

“ But when ’ll I play ? ” demanded Thad pet- 
ulantly. 

“ Oh, there ’s plenty of time to play, and be- 
sides, play isn’t everything,” placidly answered 
his grandmother. 

“ Wish ’t I did n’t have to mind grandma,” said 
Thad to himself that night as he jerked off his 
clothes and jumped into bed. “If I didn’t have 
to, I just would n’t, so there ! What do I care for 
the old eggs ? Let ’em go to waste if they want 
to.” 


CHAPTER IX 


A PARADE 

Mr. Duncan was a well-to-do farmer, and 
Thad was always well enough dressed, so far as 
material went. But tliere was something in liis 
carriage and manner that made him, when seen 
among town boys, seem rather green. 

Such was not the case with Dan, whose high- 
bred air left the boys of Wennott, in their turn, 
far behind. 

“ Dan looks as if he had been somewhere and 
seen something,” observed Joe Whitman one day 
at afternoon recess. 

Mose sighed. “ Chicago must be an awful nice 
place,” he said. “ I wish I looked that way.” 

“ What d ’ye think ! ” cried Tliad, rushing up. 
“ There ’s goin’ to be a rally down to Kippville to- 
night ! ” 

“ Well, what of it? ” asked Joe. 

“ What of it ! ” repeated Thad. “ Why, pa and 
the rest of the men are goin’ to hitch up and ride 

down there, and we boys can go along, if we want 
9 ^ 


A PARADE 


93 


to. And we can march with the Wennott boys 
in their brigade, too, if we want to, and carry 
torches, ’cause Judge Gobey told pa in town to- 
day that our side wants to make as big a show 
as we can. Judge Gobey said these was tryin’ 
times and our side wants to get elected if they 
can, ’cause, if we don’t, there ’s no tellin’ what’ll 
come of the country.” 

“Whoop!” yelled Tom Waring, running up. 
“ Hurrah for our side I ” 

“ Judge Gobey says,” continued Thad, “ that all 
we ’ve got to do is to pitch right in and we ’re sure 
to win, and he says it ’s our duty to do it. And 
the band ’s a-goin’, and every boy is a-goin’ to 
have a tin horn to blow. I tell you, it beats 
Fourth of July. Wish ’t was time to start I ” 

So busy was Thad with thoughts of the even- 
ing’s pleasure, and longings to start, that he failed 
in all the remaining recitations of the day, and so 
increased his store of bad marks by several ne\^ 
ones. This fact did not disturb him, however, for 
marks good or bad did not interest him. 

“Tell you what!” said Thad when they were 
all really oif and he found himself on the same 
seat with Mose. “ Tell you what I That Kipp- 
ville ’s no place, and I ’m goin’ to let them Kipp- 


94 


DAN DRUMMOND 


ville fellows know it to-night. This rally ’s just 
got up to astonish ’em, anyway, for there ain’t 
anybody hardly down there that ’s on our side.” 

“ Hum ! ” replied Mose, doubtfully, as he glanced 
over his shoulder at Dan, who sat on the next seat 
behind in the big farm wagon. 

“ What you sayin’ Huim ’ for ? ” asked Thad. 

“ I was a-thinkin’ mebbe ’t would n’t be best for 
you to do that.” 

“Well, I shall do it, just the same. I don’t 
have to ask that Dan what ’s best to do,” returned 
Thad, who had noticed his companion’s backward 
glance. 

Mose made no reply, and for a quarter of a 
mile there was silence. Then, “ Who ’s them 
Kippville boys, 1 ’d like to know ? ” broke out 
Thad. 

“ Mebbe they ’ll ask who we are,” suggested 
Mose. 

“ Let ’em,” was Thad’s brief answer, and again 
there was silence between the two, and it lasted 
till Kippville was reached. Not that Thad was 
sulking. He was simply indulging in visions that 
showed the Kippville boys to very bad advantage 
indeed. 

The train from Wennott had not yet come in. 


A PARADE 


95 


and, leaving the men to take the teams to a livery 
stable where they would be safe, the boys went in 
a body to the station. Hardly had they arrived 
when the engine of the incoming train whistled, 
and in a short time the men and boys from Wen- 
nott were swarming out upon the platform. Here 
and there, directing the forces of “our side” moved 
Judge Gobey, and with his own hands he brought 
up a number of torches to Thad, Mose, Dan and 
the rest as soon as he discovered that tliey had 
come down to Kippville to assist “ the cause.” 

“ That ’s right, boys, that ’s right,” he said 
with an encouraging smile. “ Always be ready to 
carry a torch for your country. Sorry we have no 
uniforms to give ypu, but you ’ll count, just the 
same.” 

At the mention of the word uniform Thad 
glanced more particularly round. Yes, the Wen- 
nott boys were in uniform, and, for an instant, he 
recognized that having no uniform and only a 
torch, it might be a little difficult to teach the 
Kippville boys the lesson of their own small- 
ness. 

At this moment, another leading politician from 
Wennott came up with a basket of tin horns, and 
the air was soon filled with discordant sounds, 


96 


DAN DRUMMOND 


Thad showing that, in such an accomplishment, 
he could do as well as any uniformed Wennott 
hoy. 

Presently it was dark. Here and there a dirty 
oil lamp showed the trend of a street, while the 
stars twinkled bravely in the cloudless sk}^ Tlie 
hand began. At the roll of the snare drum, 
punctuated, as it was at intervals, by the boom of 
the base drum, Thad’s blood began to tingle. All 
about him torches were flaming and smoking. 
The line that was rapidly forming extended, as 
it seemed to him, far down the street. ‘‘ Fall in ! 
fall in ! ” cried the officer, giving Thad a direct- 
ing push, and just as Thad found himself in the 
ranks beside Mose the band burst forth into an in- 
spiriting march. Ah, it was grand to be carrying 
a torch for “ our side” ! 

“ Where are the Kippville boys ? ” thought 
Thad scornfully. “Does Kippville have a band? 
Not that any one has ever heard.” 

Right and left he looked for the Kippville boys 
as he walked, for he knew nothing of marching, 
and his head bobbed up when Mose’s head bobbed 
down. But sooner than Thad saw the Kippville 
bo3^s, the Kippville boys saw him. From the 
side of the street as he passed they cried, “ Look 


A PARADE 


97 


at them greenies carryin’ torches! Ain’t that 
marchin’ for you ? ” 

Ah, but that was bitter for Mose, for if Thad 
was one greeny, what was he but the other? 

“Ain’t we marchin’ right? ” he asked Thad. 

“ ’Course we are,” said Thad. “ I ’d like to see 
them Kippville boys do better,” and he looked up 
at his torch. 

But Mose had his misgivings. 

The hall at Kippville was small, and all its 
available space being insufficient to accomodate 
the voters who were present in the town and anx- 
ious to hear, the boys were bidden to remain out- 
side, and, at the same time, to take good care of 
their torches and uniforms. 

Now the Wennott boys, being set up in their 
own estimation by the fact that they wore uni- 
forms, held themselves aloof from our country 
boys, and gave themselves airs quite as painful to 
Thad and Mose and Joe and Tom and Will as 
ever they could have been to the envious Kipp- 
ville boys. Only Dan did not seem to mind. 

“Come on,” said Thad. “I guess we don’t 
care nothin’ about bein’ in their crowd, anyway.” 

So it was that a small group of torches moved 
uncertainly along the unknown streets, 

7 


98 


DAN DRUMMOND 


These streets were more or less hilly, and were 
ill-paved ; and at the outer edge of the walk ran 
a ditch of greater or less depth which served as 
an open drain. 

Now did the watchful Kippville boys perceive 
their opportunity. The airs of the Wennott boys 
they did not dare to resent, partly because they 
were from Wennott, which was a town of which 
they stood in awe, it being the county-seat, and 
partly because of their superior numbers. But 
these un uniformed torch bearing stragglers — they 
could and they would avenge the arrogance of the 
Wennott boys upon them, and, at the same time, 
strike a blow for their own side in politics. 

Nobody could tell afterward just how the 
scrimmage began, but Thad knew very well how 
it ended, so far as he was concerned. And he did 
not like to own, even to himself, how much worse 
he would have fared than he did if it had not 
been for the stout muscle Dan used in liis de- 
fence. 

At home that night he took an inventory of his 
various bruises and other hurts. There was a 
skinned shin, due to a roll and scramble in the 
ditch; a black eye gained by his endeavor to 
keep his torch — an unsuccessful endeavor, too ; a 


A PARADE 


99 


pair of barked knuckles and so many black and 
blue places that he could n’t count them. His hat 
was gone, his coat was torn, and the next day he 
told Mose that he did n’t care what came of the 
country, nor whether “our side ” won or not. 

But the worst thing of all was to have to hear 
from his grandmother, “ Whatever you would 
have done, Thaddie, among them dreadful Kipp- 
ville boys if it hadn’t been for Dan, I don’t 
know.” 

Dan ! Dan ! always Dan ! 

“ I ’d rather be licked than have him fight for 
me ! ” he cried. 


CHAPTER X 


TAKEN IN HAND 

In view of his black eye and his bruises, Mrs. 
Halfhill let Thad rest for a week after the rally. 
But so little did his sufferings improve him, that, 
at the end of that time, she began again. 

They were all at dinner when she said, “ Thad- 
die, dear, you eat too much. If I was you, Mehit- 
abel,” turning to her daughter, “I would put 
him on plainer diet. Too much feeding is apt 
to make boys stupid in their books. They had 
ought to have enough, of course, but too much is 
bad.” 

Now, if Mr. and Mrs. Duncan had an ambition 
in the world, it was that Thad should shine intel- 
lectually. They had implicit confidence in Mrs. 
Halfhill, and Thad was promptly rescued from 
the dangers of gluttony. He still had what was 
amply sufficient for one boy, but as he liked to 
eat enough for two, he felt aggrieved. 

“ Yes,” thought the old lady, “ Thaddie is 
downright piggish. Of course, it would n’t do to 
100 


TAKEN IN HAND 


101 


tell Franklin and Mehitabel right out. There *s 
such a thing as being too plain spoken.” 

Having regulated her grandson’s diet, Mrs. 
Halfhill next turned her attention to his manners 
and his disposition. She had a great many 
chances, for her daughter had much to occupy 
her. 

“How do you like your teacher, Thaddie?” 
she asked. Thad had just come in from play. 

“ Do n’t like her at all,” was the answer. 

“ You surprise me, Thaddie. She seems a 
right nice young woman. Why do n’t you like 
her?” 

“ ’Cause she ’s always a-scoldin’ me, or keepin’ 
me in, or something.” 

“ So that ’s the kind of a teacher she is, is it? ” 

“Well, she %in’t that way to everybody,” con- 
fessed Thad. “ It ’s just me.” 

“ Oh ! ” said his grandmother. 

Then after a pause, “ You get your lessons real 
good, do n’t you, Thaddie ? ” 

“Naw,” answered Thad. “There don’t no- 
body in school do that only Dan and Mose and 
the girls. Us hoys do n’t care nothin’ ’bout les- 
sons.” 

There was another pause, and then Mrs. Half- 


102 


DAN DRUMMOND 


hill went on, “ Did you know, Thaddie, that your^ 
pa and ma had set their hearts on havin’ you 
learn, so ’s you ’ll grow up to be a smart man ? ” 

Thad stirred a little uneasily. 

“ ’T would make them feel awful bad to know 
you was n’t going to do it. You ’re all they ’ve 
got, Thaddie, and you’d ought to try to please 
them. They ’re so good to you, too.” 

Thad said nothing. 

“ How do you s’pose they ’ll feel after a while 
when they find out that Dan and Mose is way 
ahead of you? You three boys had ought to be 
chums and help each other along. You live close 
together, and you ’re all the same age.” 

“Mose and I are chums,” replied Thad, “but I 
do n’t want that Dan for no chum of mine.” 

“Why?” 

“ Why ? Why, because I do n’t. He plays with 
the girls, and takes off his hat to ’em, and waits 
on the teacher till she thinks there ’s nobody like 
him, and gets round the minister and every- 
body—” 

“ And fights the Kippville boys for Thaddie,” 
put in Mrs. Halfhill softly. 

“ He need n’t. I do n’t thank him.” 

“Thaddie,” said Mrs. Halfhill very soberly, 


TAKEN IN HAND 


103 


“suppose it was you that fought the Kippville 
boys for Dan, and he was to say he did n’t thank 
you. I sha’ n’t say no more now, but I want you 
to think it over.” Then she rose from her chair 
and left the room. 

Anxiously Mrs. Halfhill watched her grandson 
for the next two or three days to see if what she 
had said seemed to have taken root. Judging 
from the antipathy he still displayed toward Dan, 
she made up her mind that it had not. 

“ I ’ll have to try again,” she said. “ Mehitabel 
really ought to have done her duty by Thaddie 
better. Here he is in downright danger of growin’ 
up to be the coldest-hearted, selfishest kind of a 
man, to say nothin’ of being a dunce into the 
bargain. I don’t know what to say, or what not 
to say, hardly. There do n’t nothing seem to 
reach him. Here he comes now. I’m glad Me- 
hitabel ’s busy somewhere.” 

“ Tired, Thaddie ? ” she asked kindly, as the 
boy threw himself into a rocker. 

“Yes, T am. Been clear over to Whitman’s, 
and Joe was gone when I got there.” 

“You go to Whitman’s a good deal, don’t you, 
Thaddie ? ” 

“ Have to,” answered Thad. “ Mose, he ’s al- 


104 DAN DEU3IMOND 

ways doin’ something for his mother. He never 
gets to play any more.” 

“ Mose is gettin’ some manners, too,” he volun- 
teered, after a short pause. 

“ I ’m glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Halfhill, cor- 
dially. “ Everybody had ought to be good, but 
take two good boys and let one of them have 
manners and the other not have any, and the one 
with the pretty maimers like Dan is going to get 
ahead. Folks like manners, Thaddie. Just you 
remember that.” 

“ Anybody could lift their hat if they wanted 
to,” grumbled Thad sullenly. 

“ Of course they could, Thaddie. But there ’s 
more to it than just taking your hat off your 
head.” 

“ Pa do n’t do it.” 

“ Your pa is an awful good man, but he was n’t 
raised that way. He ’s got the foundation for 
good manners if he has n’t never built on it. See 
how kind and good he is to everybody. What ’s 
worrying me, Thaddie, is that you do n’t seem to 
have any foundation. You ’re just thinking of 
yourself the whole enduring time. Now I ’m going 
to tell you something. Folks that are always 
thinking of themselves are likely to run up agin 


TAKEN IN HAND 


105 


that same kind of people, and then there ’s a col- 
lision and the weakest has to give in and there ’s 
damage done on both sides. Do you know what 
makes Dan’s manners go right to a body’s heart? 
You can see as plain as day he wants to please 
you, and not so as he can get something out of 
you, neither. Them manners that are pretty for 
what can be got out of somebody are worse than 
none. So do n’t you go to taking oif your hat, 
Thaddie, till you feel in your heart that that ’s 
what you ought to do. I do n’t want no sham 
gentleman.” 

Then the old lady let him go. It was time to 
dress for Mrs. Baxter’s tea party. 

“I wonder if what I said has done him any 
good,” she mused, while busy at her toilet. “ He 
needs just such talkings to, anyway, and he ’s go- 
ing to get ’em whilst I’m here. Franklin and 
Mehitabel do n’t seem to sense what sort of a boy 
Thaddie is, and if something ain’t done he’ll open 
their eyes in sorrow some day.” 

Meanwhile Thad was loafing about in a very 
ugly frame of mind. It was Saturday, but he was 
in no mood for play. “ I wish that Dan had n’t 
ever come here,” he thought. “ Grandma 
would n’t ever said a word to me about manners, 


106 


DAN DRUM3IOND 


if ’twan’t for him, and I do n’t get half enough 
to eat any more. Never get but one piece of pie 
at a time, nor cake neither, and only one dish of 
pudding. That Dan ’s a mean boy with his old 
manners. I hate him. And he ’s been and got 
Mose taking care of the young ones till his 
mother’s that tickled ! I don’t care nothin’ about 
Dan coming from Chicago myself. Wish he was 
back there. I ’spect grandma’ll be throwin’ Mose 
up to me to-morrow. Mose, he’s mean, too. 
Gone to studyin’ like fury, and I know he ’d like 
to lift off his hat, only he ’s ’fraid to. There ain’t 
nothin’ the way it used to be before that Dan got 
here. I ain’t no worse than I always was, and I 
never got treated so before. And the minister, 
he backs him up, and Mrs. Hilbert thinks he ’s 
just wonderful. Well, he ain’t, anyway.” 

Down in his heart Thad knew better. But 
he grew more and more bitter. “ I wish grand- 
ma ’d go home,” he went on. “ I wish she ’d go 
Monday.” Then he paused before he ended 
defiantly, “ and I do n’t never want her to come 
visitin’ again, so there ! ” 

His feelings by this time being relieved, with a 
sneaking sense of shame he went off to a neigh- 
bor’s. 


TAKEN IN RAND 


107 


But old Mrs. Halfhill did not go home on Mon- 
day. On the contrary, she informed her delighted 
daughter that she would extend her visit a week 
or two beyond the time she had originally set for 
her return. She did not, however, chant the 
praises of Moses to her grandson, though she 
thought Moses a very fair boy. She let two whole 
days go by without a word of fault, and Thad 
was just beginning to feel at ease once more in 
her presence, when early one evening she beck- 
oned him to a seat at her side. It was a chilly 
evening and there was a fire in the parlor. Out 
in the kitchen Mrs. Duncan was doing her after- 
supper work, and out at the barn Mr. Duncan was 
assisting the hired man. 

“ What do you think, Thaddie ? ” began Mrs. 
Half hill, “ I haven’t ever seen you offer to do a 
thing yet to help your ma or pa.” 

Thad flushed. He hated to be called “ Thad- 
die,” anyway. 

“ Who gets in the kindling for morning ? ” she 
went on. 

“I don’t know,” answered Thad, wriggling in 
his chair. 

“I thought you didn’t. Well, your ma does 
it, ’cause your pa’s always busy at night down 


108 


DAN DRUMMOND 


to the barn. Now, Thaddie, I want you to begin 
to lay that foundation of good manners I was 
talking to you about on Saturday. I do n’t be- 
lieve your ma has got the kindling yet to-night. 
Supposing you run and get it for her. She’ll be 
surprised when she sees you laying that stone, I 
can tell you, and do you be sure to make her feel 
that you want to do it for her. I don’t want any 
cheating. The way to make her feel that you 
want to do it for her is to re’ly want to, you know. 
You can do it, for you won’t never amount to 
much till you get so’s you can boss your own 
heart. And your heart needs bossing. It re’ly 
does, Thaddie.’* 


CHAPTER XI 


MORE MANNERS 

As his grandmother’s talks went on, Thad’s 
prejudice against Dan, together with his general 
selfishness, though he would not own it, was 
slowly being undermined. For the old lady was 
quite as liberal with kind tones and smiles as she 
was with advice, and still more liberal with all 
sorts of presents such as boys like. 

“ It takes firmness and straight-out talking,” 
she would say to herself, “but a body hadn’t 
ought ever to forget that the Lord himself says, 
‘With loving kindness have I drawn thee.’” 
And she was quite successful in making Thad un- 
derstand that, while she did not in the least ap- 
prove of his ways, she did love him. 

So it was with real regret that he saw his 
grandmother, in mid-November, pack up her be- 
longings to go home. And it was a regret that 
Mrs. Half hill saw and appreciated. 

“Now remember, Thaddie,” she said, “you’ve 
109 


110 


DAN DRUMMOND 


started on your foundation, and next year I ’m 
coming again to see how you’re getting on. 
Do n’t you let the frost of selfishness crack them 
stones that you have laid loose from the mortar, 
so that you ’ll have to lay ’em over again. Now 
do n’t you, Thaddie,” she exhorted, with her head 
out of the car window. 

Then the boy got his courage up. “ I ’ll try, 
grandma, if you’ll stop calling me ‘ Thaddie.’ ” 

For a moment the old lady opened her eyes 
wide, and then she smiled. “Well, that was a 
silly trick of me,” she confessed. “ I never 
thought about your being too big for that name, 
Thad.” 

She smiled again, and with the smile on her 
face the train whizzed away with her. 

“ Grandma, she gives lots of advice,” said 
Thad, turning shamefacedly toward Mose and 
Dan. The three boys had driven Mrs. Halfhill to 
the train. 

“ And good advice, too,” said Dan. 

“ She did n’t ever give you any, did she ? ” 
asked Thad sharply. 

“ Yes, she did,” laughed Dan, “ the first time I 
saw her, and I ’ve never forgotten it, either.” 

“ What was it?” curiously. 


MORE 3IAENERS 


111 


“ ‘ Pay for what you get, a) id do n't forget your 
manners,' " promptly responded Dan. 

Thad meditated a moment. “You’re doin’ it,” 
he said. “You’re doin’ it. That ’s what makes 
you lick into your work and be so polite, ain’t 
it?” 

“ Yes.” 

Thad’s respect for his grandmother rose. “ I ’m 
going to do it, too,” he declared. 

“ So am I,” echoed Mose. 

“ But I can’t ever take off my hat,” confessed 
Thad. “ I tried it the other day looking in the 
glass and I felt that silly ! ” 

“ So did I,” said Mose. 

“Why, have you been trying it?” asked Thad. 
The three were jogging toward home now. Mose 
nodded, with a quick glance at Dan. 

“ I would n’t have the girls see me at it for any- 
thing,” confided Thad. 

“If there was only somebody to practice on 
that would n’t laugh at you,” lamented Mose. 

“I know some people that won’t laugh at you 
two boys,” observed Dan. 

“ Who ? ” asked the two together. 

“ Mrs. Duncan and Mrs. Baxter and Aunt 


Addie.” 


112 


DAN l^RmiMOND 


“ Oh ! ” came, half in relief, half in surprise. 

“ Let ’s do it, Mose. What do you say ? ” sug- 
gested Thad, after a pause. 

“ All right,” said Mose. 

What a shy look was in Thad’s eyes the first 
time he lifted his hat to his mother ! 

“It tickled her,” thought the boy as he passed 
on. “I’m going to do it all the time. ‘ Gentle- 
men can live in the country same as anywhere,’ 
Dan says.” 

For Dan had now become high authority with 
Thad: His grandmother’s plain talks had made 
him want to be another boy. 

Christmas time had come and Thad had 
been to town. Mounted on one of his father’s 
best horses he was galloping home, when sud- 
denly he met Annetta Waring driving slowly 
along. Instinctively up went Thad’s right hand 
and lifted his hat. 

“ I did it before I thought ! ” he exclaimed as 
he galloped on. “I did it before I thought! 
And she liked it. Dan said if I kept doing it, it 
would come natural to me after awhile. Believe 
I’ll try it on father now. All the hat-lifting 
ain’t for girls and women, Dan says. He always 
lifts his hat to Mr. Hilbert. Didn’t I used to 


MORE MANNERS 


113 


hate Dan, though ? I ’d hate him yet if it had n’t 
been for grandma. 1 believe folks do like man- 
ners. I know I never got treated so nice in my 
life as I have since I ’ve been getting me some 
manners. And I ’m going to get more of ’em. 
Can’t have too many of ’em. Easy enough to get 
’em, too. All you’ve got to do is to try real 
honest to please people, and there you are.” 

It was in accordance with his resolve to get 
more manners for himself that Thad looked about 
him daily for opportunities. 

The schoolhouse was heated by a tall soft-coal 
stove that stood, with due impartiality to all the 
pupils, directly in the center of the room. There 
were no cold corners, therefore, but all the cir- 
cumference of that center of heat was equally 
chilly. 

There were no big boys in the school, for the 
reason that there were none in the neighborhood. 
How to avoid lugging in the coal and filling up 
the stove was what each boy had made a particu- 
lar study of until Dan entered the school. Dan, 
when it was his turn, quietly filled the stove and 
thought no more about it. He would willingly 
have done it oftener, but this Miss Afton would 
not permit. She preferred to keep on struggling 


114 


DAN DRUMMOND 


with the other boys, who continually dodged their 
duty. 

“Whatever pleases other folks is manners,” 
Thad had formulated for himself. “ ’T would 
please Miss Afton if I filled that stove without 
being made to do it. So filling the stove ’s man- 
ners.” 

He heaved a sigh and glanced over at the 
heavy, dirty coal hod, which was sure to leave a 
‘smut on some part of his person the moment he 
touched it. “ Manners are queer things,” he 
thought. “ When I was little I used to think 
‘ Yes, ma’am,’ and ‘ No, ma’am,’ and ‘ If you please,’ 
was all there w^as of it. But now I believe there ’s 
such a lot to manners that I sha’n’t never get done 
with ’em. Well, I might as well get about filling 
that stove.” 

Quietly he rose, intent on pleasing Miss Afton, 
and so adding to his manners, and he did not 
notice that, from the other side of the room, Joe 
Whitman had risen at the same moment and for 
the same purpose. For a similar train of thought 
had occupied the minds of both boys. 

Each walked with the quiet, dignified step he 
had acquired from watching Dan, and both bent 
together over the coal scuttle with a bump of 


MORE MANNERS 


115 


heads that caused a hearty laugh from the 
others. 

“ What is the meaning of this, boys ? ” asked 
Miss Aftoii, sternly. 

Each boy glanced up while he rubbed his head 
with his left hand and kept firm hold on the 
handle of the coal scuttle with his right. And 
with one voice they answered, “I was going to 
fill the stove.” 

Miss Afton smiled. “ This is certainly a new 
state of affairs,” she said. “ One of you may fill 
the stove, and the other may return to his seat.” 

At this there was a mighty pull on the coal 
scuttle from opposite directions, Joe and Thad 
each understanding that he was the one permitted 
to fill the stove. 

“ Why do n’t you go to your seat ? ” demanded 
Thad, as he tugged away. 

“ Go to your seat, yourself ! ” retorted Joe with 
such a jerk that Thad lost his hold and fell over 
backward. The coal was rattling into the stove 
when Thad arose and said, “ I ’ll pay you for this, 
sir ! Snatching my manners right out of my 
hand!” 

“What did one of you say, boys?” asked Miss 
Afton. 


116 


DAN DRUMMOND 


There was no reply as Thad, with a black look 
at Joe, limped to his seat. Then before the 
teacher could repeat the question one of the 
younger children piped up, “ Thad said he ’d pay 
Joe for snatchin’ his manners out of his hand.” 

This caused another laugh. And that is how 
the coal scuttle came to be called for many a 
day, “ Thad’s manners.” 

That evening Joe and Thad sat with shamed 
fooks before Miss Afton after all the rest had 
gone home. 

“ You each wished to please me, did you not?” 
she asked. 

“ Yes.” 

“That was right. But you neither of you 
cared about pleasing each other ? ” 

Each boy’s face said, “ No.” 

“ That was ^ where you were both wrong. 
Truly good manners include everybody.” 

A moment she looked at them and then she 
said, “ You may go now.” 

Thad was glad Joe’s way and his were in differ- 
ent directions, for he wanted to be alone. 

“ Manners is awful,” he said to himself, “ but 
I ’ll have to get ’em, just the same. And I hope 
Joe Whitman will get him some, too.” 


CHAPTER XII 


A READING CLUB 

“ Say, pa,” said Thad two or three weeks later, 
“you ought to see the things Dan knows about— 
the most interesting things. I asked him where 
he found out about ’em. And he said he did n’t 
have to find out about ’em. They were in the 
books and papers at Mr. Hilbert’s and all he had 
to do was to read ’em.” 

Mr. Duncan regarded his son with attention. 
Thad’s new efforts after manners had not escaped 
him, and he felt very indulgent toward him. 

Thad, seeing his father’s interest, was encour- 
aged to go on. 

“ Yes, sir, he just finds out about everything : 
bugs and worms and fishes and birds and butter- 
flies. The rest of us fellows don’t know any bugs 
only potato bugs and tumble bugs and lady bugs 
and June bugs — ^just the kind that grow round 
here. And we never thought there was much to 
bugs before Dan got here, anyway.” 

Mr. Duncan laughed. “I always thought 
117 


118 


DAN DRUMMOND 


there was considerable to potato bugs,” he said. 
“But go on, my son.” 

“ Well, it ’s the same way in geography. Why, 
we used to learn the names of the principal 
cities, and think it was a mean shame we had to 
learn ’em. We thought, ‘ What ’s the use ’ ? But, 
pa, those towns are real places like Wennott or 
Chicago, and Dan can tell something that hap- 
pened in a good many of ’em. He says he’s go- 
ing to see them for himself, maybe, some day, and 
anyway, he ’s going to know about ’em. And 
now when you see a dot on the map you can't 
help wondering who lives there, and what kind of 
houses they are, and if the folks have manners. 

“And then there’s the grammar. Dan says 
grammar and manners go together. He says he 
did n’t find it out till he got here, but he knows 
now his gentlemen talked grammar. And, pa, 
it ’s just gettin’ exciting to live. There ’s some- 
thing on hand all the time. I wish I could get to 
know more.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Duncan looked at each other with 
hearts full of happy pride, but neither spoke, for 
just then a knock sounded and Mrs. Duncan arose 
to open the door. 

And out streamed the light of lamp and fire 


A BEADING CLUB 


119 


upon Mr. Hilbert and Dan standing on the frosty 
threshold. 

Promptly they were ushered in, and Dan and 
Thad were soon in a corner by themselves while 
the others chatted by the fire. 

But not for long. Mr. Hilbert was a young 
man whose whole heart was in the welfare of the 
boys of his parish, and he had but a short time to 
spend that evening at Mr. Duncan’s. 

“From what Dan tells me,” he began as soon 
as politeness permitted, “ there seems to be quite 
an interest in reading developing among the boys. 
What do you think of starting a reading club, to 
meet at my house?” 

Mr. Duncan, looking at Thad’s eager face, 
thought it would be a good thing and said so. 

“Well, then, suppose you and Thad come along 
to Mr. Baxter’s and see what they think of it.” 

Mr. Duncan laughed and, going out, harnessed 
a team and put it to the bob sled. “Might as 
well have plenty of room,” he said. “ I suppose 
you ’ll want to take Mr. Baxter and Mose to the 
next place.” 

“Exactly,” laughed the minister. “A united 
effort is what we want.” 

“ O pa ! ” said Thad, as the two rode along in 


120 


DAN DRUMMOND 


the bob by themselves behind Mr. Hilbert’s cut- 
ter, “ I ’ll have a chance to know things now ! ” 

“ It seems that you will, my son,” was the kind 
answer. 

“I wonder if the rest will join. Say, pa, can’t 
I, anyway, even if they don’t?” ^ 

“Yes, certainly.” 

“ Say, pa,” said Thad, after a little thought, 
“it’s just as grandma said. You ’re awful good.” 

Mr. Duncan made no answer, for they had now 
reached Mr. Baxter’s, and Mose, hearing the bells, 
popped his head out of the door. 

From Baxter’s to Whitman’s, from Whitman’s 
to Motley’s, from Motley’s to Waring’s went the 
two teams, the occupants of the bob increased by 
two at every stop, and that night unwholesome 
literature was banished from that neighborhood. 

“ Perhaps the leaves will get worn and soiled, 
Addie,” Mr. Hilbert said to his wife when he 
reached home and looked around upon his be- 
loved books. “ But it ’s everything to those boys 
to get waked up just now. Souls can be put in 
the way of salvation by good literature just as 
they can be driven away to perdition by what is 
bad.” 

Twice a week the reading club met; on Tues- 


A BEADING CLUB 


121 


day and Friday evenings. Thad read where and 
what he would. But Mose was still helping at 
home with the children on Saturdays, and they 
insisted that he should read things to tell to them. 

So it happened that Susie, who had two pet 
geese of her own, learned that geese, by their 
cackling, saved Rome. 

“That’s the way mine would have done if they 
had been there,” she said. 

But the unselfishness of Mose had its reward. 
Late in the winter Miss Afton in one of her cus- 
tomary talks to the younger children chanced to 
ask : “ Next to your father and mother what do 
you love best ? ” 

Some of the children answered, “My cat,” some, 
“ My dog,” but Susie and Willie said “ My big 
brother.” 

Whereat Mose blushed and was heard to mut- 
ter, “ That ’s just their notion.” 

“And a very good notion, too,” responded Miss 
Afton kindly. 

The weeks went by and again it was March — 
March on the rolling hills this time, and Dan was 
thirteen. 

After breakfast Mr. Hilbert called him into the 
little front room, shabbier now than ever from its 


122 


DAN DBUM3I0ND 


constant use as a reading-room that winter. In 
the minister’s hands were his own old, well-worn 
Latin grammar and a Latin reader. 

“ I wish you to begin Latin with me to-day, 
Dan,” he said. 

Dan’s eyes danced as he took the books, and 
Mr. Hilbert smiled. 

“ I ’m going to put you through college,” he 
said kindly. “I shall fit you myself. It will 
probably take seven or eight years — of course it 
could be done in less time, but I do n’t wish to 
spoil your mind by cramming.” 

“ O Uncle James ! ” cried the boy unable to ut- 
ter another word. But his eloquent eyes spoke 
for him, and the kind minister well understood 
their language. 

“ Run along to Aunt Addie now,” he said, 
“and when you are at leisure come back and I 
will set you your first lesson.” 

Once in the kitchen he found his tongue again. 

“Aunt Addie! Aunt Addie!” he cried, rush- 
ing up to her and throwing his arms around 
her neck, “ Uncle James is going to send me to 
college ! Uncle James is going to send me to 
college ! ” 

“ Yes, I know, dear.” 


A BEADING CLUB 


123 


“ And I ’m just the happiest boy in the world ! 
Gentlemen always go to college, do n’t they ? ” 

“Not always. Sometimes they can’t.” 

“But it’s better when they can, isn’t it?” 

“ Yes, dear, certainly.” 

Later in the forenoon he asked timidly, “ Will 
it cost Uncle James very much. Aunt Addie ? ” 

“ Not more than he is glad to pay, my dear 
boy.” 

Dan said no more, but by keeping his eyes 
open and asking a few judicious questions he 
found out how generous was Mr. Hilbert’s inten- 
tion toward him. “ I know what I must do,” 
thought Dan. “ I must help.” 

Thad and Mose were not long in hearing the 
grand news, nor were they a very great while in 
spreading it. 

“ Say, pa,” said Thad, “ Dan ’s going to college.” 
And his eyes looked very wistful. 

“Is he? ” asked Mr. Duncan. 

But Mrs. Duncan noticed that he nodded his 
head as if to some proposition made to his mind. 

“ Dan ’s going to college,” announced Mose. 

Now, Mr. Duncan and Mr. Baxter were not in 
the least alike. Why should Mr. Baxter nod his 
head precisely as Mr. Duncan had done? 


124 


DAN DRmiMOND 


“ Dan ’s going to college ! ” Never did four 
words work such a revolution in a neighborhood. 

A week went by, and all the fathers and the 
mothers talked college when they met. No one 
said anything about sending a son there, though. 
But two or three went over to Grinnell and 
looked about them. And they shook their heads. 
Their boys were too young to go away from home, 
they thought. 

“ Table ’s mensa^'^ observed Thad as he sat at 
dinner one day with a perceptibly diminished 
appetite. 

“ Is it ? ” asked Mr. Duncan with a twinkle in 
his eye. 

Mose, being no whit behind Thad in knowl- 
edge of the dead languages, gave his family the 
same information. 

“’Tis, is it?” asked Mr. Baxter, and he laughed 
outright. “Well, Mose, you sit right down at 
the mensa and eat your dinner, and we ’ll see 
about it.” 

And with a light heart Mose sat down. 

“When a boy really wants to go to college,” 
Mr. Baxter told his wife, “ I do n’t know but he ’d 
better go.” 

And now all the men in the neighborhood be- 


J READING CLUB 


125 


gan to have conferences with Mr. Hilbert, and 
the minister’s face was beaming. 

“ Addie,” he said one evening, “our boy has 
been nothing but a blessing to our home and this 
neighborhood. Mr. Duncan has been talking to 
me. He wants me to fit Thad for college along 
with Dan. He says he ’d rather pay me to do it 
than to send Thad away.” 

Then Mrs. Hilbert’s face grew bright. 

“But that’s not all, Addie. Mr. Baxter wants 
me to fit Mose ; and Mr. Whitman wants me to 
fit Joe; and Mr. Waring, Tom; and Mr. Motley, 
Will. It’s like having two salaries, Addie.” 

“ And when we needed the money so much ! ” 
said Mrs. Hilbert, with a radiant face. 

“ Why do you suppose all these boys want to 
go to college ?” asked Mr. Hilbert. And then he 
answered his own question : “ Primarily because 
Dan ’s going.” 

But he entirely forgot that Dan was going be- 
cause out of his own small means he was willing 
to send him. 


CHAPTER XIII 


GARDENING 

As the wild March winds blew over the little 
parsonage by night and rattled the blinds and 
roared and whistled round the corners, Dan, lying 
in his bed absorbed in thought, hardly heard them. 
How could he help ? How could he help ? Over 
and over he asked the question, and every time 
there rose before him the vision of a seedsman’s 
catalogue. The catalogue had been sent to Mr. 
Hilbert, and was a very insinuating pamphlet. 
Dan had studied it carefully, and in the darkness 
his mental sight saw the book open of itself now 
at “Onions,” now, at “Potatoes,” now at “Peas,” 
and now at “ Beans.” 

“ A garden is the only thing I can think of,” he 
told himself at last. “ Our garden was all weeds 
last summer, even if I did pull a good many out, 
and there was n’t anything so very fine, but, 
maybe, if I should send to Ferguson & Co. for 

the seeds, and work as hard as I know how, 
126 


GARDENING 


127 


’t would amount to something. I ’ll ask Uncle 
James in the morning.” 

The result of the asking was that Mr. Hilbert 
gave his consent to the garden. 

“ I never could succeed at gardening, my boy, 
but perhaps you can,” he said kindly. “ Only re- 
member not to work too hard,” 

“ I guess we do n’t either of us know much 
about it. Uncle James,” answered Dan respect- 
fully. “ According to the catalogue it ought not 
to be hard work, and 1 guess we just do n’t under- 
stand it very well. But I ’ll try my best, anyway. 
And, O Uncle James, couldn’t I raise some chick- 
ens, too ? ” 

“ Why, yes, if you like, certainly.” 

“Now I can help ! ” thought Dan joyfully. 
“We ’ve got fifteen hens, and fifteen hens ought to 
lay fifteen eggs a day except when they ’re sitting. 
Ours don’t, but maybe they will when I study up 
about hens. And if I raise two hundred more — 
well, I guess I can help.” 

“ I can get the hens all set before it ’s time to 
make the garden,” thought Dan a few days later, 
as he was on his way to Whitman’s for fresh eggs. 
“That shows that chickens and garden go to- 
gether.” 


128 


DAN DRUMMOND 


At Whitman’s lie found Mrs. Whitman quite 
exasperated. She was out in the chicken yard, 
and a beautiful “ White Leghorn ” hen was in her 
hands. “ I ’ll have her killed this very day,” she 
said. At sight of Dan’s glance of pity at the hen 
she softened. “Snow ’s been a pet,” she said. “/ 
can’t eat her : you may have her.” 

“ Oh, thank you,” cried Dan and he thought, 
“Now we’ve sixteen hens and we shall have six- 
teen eggs a day.” 

It did not occur to Dan to inquire what the hen 
had been doing to arouse Mrs. Whitman’s anger. 
But later he found out. There were just six of 
Mrs. Hilbert’s hens ready to sit and very carefully 
Dan set them. A day or two went by, and the 
sitters seemed uneasy. Some of their eggs were 
broken. Dan could not understand it. Neither 
could Mrs. Hilbert when Dan told her of it. 
“ They did not act so last year,” she said. 

A day or two more went by. More eggs were 
broken, and one hen’s nest was torn to pieces. All 
the straw was scratched out, and the box left bare. 

“ I do n’t know, dear,” Mrs. Hilbert said when 
Dan told her. “ They are ‘ Plymouth Rocks ’ and 
said to be the best chickens there are. I cannot 
tell why they should do so,” 


GARDENING 


129 


“ I *m going to watch,” said Dan. But he could 
not watch very closely. His school and other 
duties gave him little time. One after another 
the nests were destroyed, and, at last, Dan de- 
termined to ask Mrs. Baxter. 

“ I should say that was the work of a ‘ White 
Leghorn,’ if you had any.” 

“ A ‘ Leghorn ! ’ ” repeated Dan in a puzzled 
tone. 

“ Yes. ‘ Leghorns ’ are splendid for eggs — no 
hens better. But they have to be kept by them- 
selves. They won’t sit, nor let any other hens 
sit.” 

“ I guess we shall be obliged to have chicken 
for dinner to-morrow,” said Dan as he walked 
home and thought of the downy balls of newly 
hatched chickens he had seen at Mrs. Baxter’s. 

“Say, ma, what did you give Dan that ‘Leg- 
horn ’for?” asked Joe. He had heard of Dan’s 
experience from Mose, and he now proceeded to 
recount it to his mother. 

“ Well ! well ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Whitman in 
distress when he had finished. “ I never thought 
about Dan raising chickens. I only thought 
about getting rid of Snow without having to kill 

her. But I ’ll make amends.” 

9 


130 


DAN DRUMMOND 


Followed by Joe she walked out into the yard. 
“Here,” she said, “you box up this last ‘Ply- 
mouth Rock ’ and her brood — she ^s got fifteen — 
and I ’ll pack up six sittings of eggs to make up 
for those Snow spoiled, and you can take them 
over. Be sure you make it all right.” 

Joe, pleased to be his mother’s messenger on 
such an errand, presently drove ofP, and the mis- 
deeds of Snow were soon forgotten. 

“ I should think,” said Dan, “ if she did n’t 
want to sit herself, she might have let the rest 
alone.'’ 

As spring advanced, the boys of the neighbor- 
hood found themselves busier than they had ever 
been before. The lessons in school did not seem 
so difficult, but each boy, stimulated by Dan’s 
example, elected to do more out of doors than he 
had been in the habit of doing. At first they 
were afraid that work and Latin would con- 
flict. 

“ Not a bit of it,” said Mr. Hilbert heartily. 
“Learn all you can in the open air. You will 
find yourselves remembering better.” 

So, at their work about the farm, each boy 
wore a bag, slung tourist fashion over his shoulder, 
in which was a Latin grammar for reference in 


GARDENING 


131 


case one tripped over a declension, a conjugation, 
or a rule. 

In Mr. Hilbert’s garden Dan worked cheerily, 
not allowing himself to dwell too often in detail 
on the profits he hoped might come of it. 

“ vlmo,” said Dan, putting the thought of pros- 
pective dollars resolutely behind him, and a bit 
of purslane uprooted was in his hand. 

“ a pigweed answered the call. 

“ Amat^" and out came a stubborn plant of fox- 
tail grass. 

“Dan talks to the weeds,” confided Edna Hil- 
bert to Susie Baxter. “ J do n’t understood what 
he says, but he says something and jerks them 
right out.” 

“ That ’s just the way Mose does,” returned 
Susie. “Only Mose doesn’t have nothing to do 
with weeds. Pa says he ’s such a comfort to ma 
that he wants him to keep right on.” 

“ What does Mose talk to then? ” asked Edna. 

“ Oh, he talks to the outside of the windows 
when he ’s washing them, and he talks to the 
porch when he sweeps it, and when he scrubs it. 
I do n’t ’xactly understand what it means, but I 
know what it is, ’cause I remember it. It was 
yesterday, and he said amicus^ 


132 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ I wonder what that is,” said Edna. 

“I don’t know for sure, but I believe it’s the 
full name for Mike. Mose knows lots.” 

“ So does Dan,” said Edna. 

“ Whitman’s had a hired man once by the name 
of Mike,” continued Susie. “ It was when I was 
real little. They just called him Mike.” 

“Well, I’m going to remember what Dan says 
to the weeds,’’ said Edna. 

The next day she listened. 

“Go in, dear,” said Dan. “ It ’s been raining 
and it ’s too wet here for you.” 

“No, it is n’t. Please let me stay a minute.” 

“ Well,” said Dan. “ Only a minute.” 

Then he went on: Amayidum., (jerk;) 

amanda., (jerk ;) amandumy (jerk.) Go in, now, 
Edna.” 

“ ’T is n’t a minute yet, Dan.” 

“ Amandin (jerk ;) amandae, (jerk ;) amanda^ 
(jerk.) Run, now, Edna.” 

The little girl sighed as she obeyed. 

“ ’T was something about Amanda,” she told 
Susie, afterward. “ I don’t know what, but I 
do n’t believe Amanda is just right.” 

Faithfully the work in the garden went on. 
Faithfully the hens and their broods were cared 


OARDEmm 133 

for, and at last June had come and school was 
out. By this time Dan had made up his mind 
that chickens and a garden did not go together. 

“ I should think they might go somewhere else 
to wallow,” he said, as he chased the hens away 
and then returned to look at the holes in the 
garden beds. 

But Dan was of a hopeful spirit, and he saw 
that what they had destroyed was very small 
when compared with what was left. 

“ Now just wait till I have something big 
enough to sell !” he said. “Won’t I take it to 
town? ” 

He waited. The radishes were gone long ago. 
The family had eaten what came up, and had been 
puzzled to know how from one paper of choice 
seed had sprung round turnip radishes and long 
slim ones. They were the white kind and Dan 
also marveled that, having been warranted crisp 
and tender, they should be tough and hard. 

“A garden is just the hardest kind of work,’' 
Dan told himself as the days went on. “ If it 
was n’t for helping, I should be sorry I had one. 
You have to pull out weeds in some places and 
hoe them out in other places, and you have to 
hoe the potatoes and the tomatoes, and you have 


134 


DAN DRUMMOND 


to hill up the corn, and between times hunt for 
worms and bugs. If you don’t, you know you 
won’t make anything, and if you do maybe you 
won’t, anyway.” 

Dan was no grumbler, but once in a while he 
could not help seeing things exactly as they were, 
for once in a while his rose colored spectacles 
would drop off. What had knocked the specta- 
cles off this time was the fact that bis summer 
turnips, warranted to be sweet and delicious, had 
turned out to be bitter as quinine and utterly un- 
eatable. 

“ What you going to do with ’em, Dan ? ” 
asked the sympathizing Thad looking over the 
long rows. ^ 

“ Pull them up and throw them away,” was the 
answer. “ That ’s all I can do.” 

“ Here comes Mose ! ” exclaimed Thad. “ Hello 
Mose ! ” he called. “ Here ’s your nice, sweet, 
summer turnips! Come along, and help pull ’em 
up.” 

Mose came along, and the three made short 
work of that portion of Dan’s crop. 

The turnips out of the way, the three walked 
through the neat garden on a tour of inspection. 
“ My, Dan,” exclaimed Thad, “ you ’ve got a lot 


GARDENING 


135 


of cucumbers ! Nice ones, too. Or they will be in 
a week or two, when they ’re big enough to eat.” 

“ Your potatoes are big enough now — the early 
ones, I mean,” said Mose. “ But this corn won’t 
be ready for a month yet.” 

“Say, look at all these string beans,” cried 
Thad. “ Why do n’t you sell some of ’em ? Tell 
you what ! let ’s pick the beans and dig some po- 
tatoes and take ’em to town. Ma ’s got some eggs 
she wants to send.” 

Ardently the three set to work. And in the 
cool of the evening that closed a hot day toward 
the last of June they drove off to town. Two 
bushels of potatoes, and a big basket of beans, 
and another big basket of eggs reposed in the 
back of the spring wagon. 

“ Who ’s to do the talking ? ” asked Thad as 
they rode along. 

“ I do n’t know,” said Dan anxiously. “ Who 
do you think had better do it ? ” 

Thad was just about to nominate himself when 
Mose said, “ Let ’s all do it.” 

Now Mose was no talker, and the other two 
looked at him in surprise. 

“ What d ’ye mean, Mose ? ” inquired Thad. 
“ Are we all to speak up at once ? ” 


136 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ No,” laughed Mose, “ of course not. But 
Dan ’s too polite, and you ’re not polite enough, 
and so I thought we ’d better all help.” 

“Well, that’s news to me, that Dan’s too po- 
lite,” said Thad. 

There was silence while Mose thought hard in 
his effort to express himself, and the other two 
waited to hear what he would say. 

“Well,” said Mose at last, with a sigh, “it’s 
this way: — Dan’s not too polite in the long run, 
but he ’s too polite in a short deal with those that 
do n’t know him. There do n’t many men do as 
well by boys, anyway, as they do by other men. 
I’ve heard pa say so. And ’t is n’t everybody that 
knows what politeness is when they see it. Just 
look how we treated Dan at first.” 

“ That ’s so,” said Thad. “ I guess we ’ll let 
Dan start in and then help him out if he needs 
it.” 

“ All right,” said Mose. 

“And now,” continued the cautious Mose, 
“ let ’s brace up. Maybe the town ’s full of pota- 
toes and beans. We’ll hope it ain’t, but maybe 
it is.” 

Three hearts were beating hard when at length 
the wagon drew up before Mr. Norton’s grocery. 


QARDENim 


137 


Mr. Norton himself, a stout cheery man with a 
warm spot in his heart for boys, sat at his door 
for a breath of air. Quickly Dan sprang down 
from the wagon and touched his hat as he ad- 
vanced to stand before him. His usually quick 
glance took in nothing of his surroundings, but 
he looked only into the kind eyes of the man who 
might possibly buy what he had brought, and 
thus aid him to help Mr. Hilbert. 

But Mose saw the rows of baskets of potatoes 
on each side of the door, and a great basket of 
beans just inside. 

“ Town is full,” he thought. 

Nevertheless, without a word of assistance from 
Thad or Mose, Dan sold his potatoes for fifty 
cents a bushel and got the money for them — 
something unusual — as grocers generally pay for 
their country produce in trade. 

“As for the beans, I hn afraid I can’t give you 
more than five cents for the lot,” said Mr. Nor- 
ton. “ The market ’s overstocked.” 

“ A boy or anybody is safe to deal with Nor- 
ton,” said Mr. Baxter that evening when Mose 
was talking over the transaction with his father. 
“ Norton ’s square.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


HUCKSTERING 

“There, Uncle James,” said Dan that evening 
as he handed Mr. Hilbert the money. “ There ’s 
the price of part of the seeds back, at least.” It 
had been in the bargain that what Dan spent for 
seeds and plowing was to be a loan. Otherwise, 
the proud-spirited boy would not have felt that 
he was helping. 

So Mr. Hilbert quietly took the money, only 
saying, “ Your garden is doing finely, Dan. We 
have set a very good table from it so far.” 

Dan went to bed happy. 

“ I was telling pa about your trade, Dan,” said 
Mose the next day, “ and he says a boy or any- 
body can deal with Mr. Norton because he ’s 
square. Let ’s go to town and have a talk with 
him about what he can sell for you. I kept my 
eyes open last night, and I saw just lots of cucum- 
bers and corn and everything out at the grocery 

doors, and they looked wilty, too.” 

138 


HUCKSTERING 


139 


“ Did 3^ou ? ” asked Dan with a sinking heart. 
If that was so how could he get enough to pay 
for his seeds and plowing? His seed potatoes 
had come high. 

“ Would he want to be bothered ? ” asked Dan 
after a while. 

“ Course he would,” said Thad. “ Let ’s go to- 
night.” 

“ The reason that we can’t sell much,” said Mr. 
Norton, who received the boys very kindly, “is 
that there is a huckster who drives every morning 
to the doors of the people who have no gardens of 
their own. His vegetables are perfectly fresh, 
and most people buy of him.” 

“Then, Dan,” said Thad positively, “you’ll 
have to be a huckster, too.” 

Dan looked inquiringly at Mr. Norton. 

“Why are you so anxious to sell?” asked Mr. 
Norton kindly. 

“Why,” cried Thad without giving Dan time 
to answer, “lie’s trying to help Mr. Hilbert put 
him through college. We’re all going to college 
out our way, but we ’ve all got fathers to send us 
but Dan. Mr. Hilbert’s the minister, and Dan 
lives with him, and he ’s going to send him, and 
Dan wants to help.” 


140 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ And you have a fine garden, have you, Dan ? ” 
asked Mr. Norton. 

“ Yes, sir. It ’s pretty fair.” 

“Some of it ’s mighty fine, and some of it ain’t,” 
put in Thad. “You ought to see his old turnips.” 

“Your potatoes are the finest I have seen,” said 
Mr. Norton. “ I think I can sell a good many of 
those for you, but I should advise you to be a 
huckster, too, as Thad says.” 

And that closed the conference. 

“That’s the kind of a man,” said Thad de- 
cisively as they drove away. 

Mr. Norton, who. was quick-eared, heard and 
smiled. He liked to have boys think he was the 
right kind of a man. 

“ Now,” said Thad the next day, when he had 
come over to look at the garden, “pa thinks 
that ’s a good plan about the huckster business. 
And I ’m going to help you, ’cause pa said I 
could. Mose would like to go along, but he 
can’t on account of Annie and the baby. He 
could if he could take ’em along.” And Thad 
looked inquiringly at Dan. 

“Where would they sit?” asked Dan. 

“ Why, we could put a box in front of the seat 
for ’em to sit on,” replied Thad. 


HUCKSTERING 


141 


“ All right,” agreed Dan. 

“ My, but Mose ’ll be tickled ! ” said Thad. “ He 
did hate to stay at home and miss the fun. He 
says he believes some days you ’ll take in two dol- 
lars. If you could do it every day you ’d be fixed, 
would n’t you? Now, let ’s look at everything.” 

The two began to walk about. 

“ Seems to me things are awful slow,” criticised 
the impatient Thad. “Here ’t is the last day of 
June. I should think these cucumbers might grow 
a little faster. Corn won’t be ready for two weeks. 
Tomatoes — nobody knows when they ’ll come 
along. And other folks a-sellin’ now. Squash 
and pumpkins and watermelons and little silver 
skin onions and beets and carrots and cabbages,” 
enumerated Thad with all the zest of a proprietor. 
“ Well, there ’s one thing, we ’ll have some pretty 
big wagon loads when we do get started.” 

Two weeks went slowly by, enlivened on the 
Fourth by firecrackers and torpedoes, and then 
there was a joyful gathering late one afternoon in 
Dan’s garden. 

“ These shell beans are to go,” declared Thad. 
“ Let ’s pick ’em first.” 

The two others submissively helped to pick the 
beans. 


142 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“Now, potatoes next,” announced Thad. 

“Say,” inquired Mose, mildly, “you ain’t run- 
ning things, are you? ” 

“ That ’s all right,” said Dan. “ Potatoes ought 
to come next, I think myself.” 

Thad and Mose had each brought a hoe, and 
the early potatoes were soon in great heaps on 
the ground. 

“Mr. Norton will think these are nicer than 
the others,” said Mose. 

“ Cucumbers ! ” sang out Thad. 

The sun was almost setting, and presently the 
dew would fall. 

Out came three jack-knives, the blades whereof 
were whipped open in a hurry, and the work of 
cutting the stems of the cucumbers began. 

“ Funny, that you can’t pick ’em, but you 
can’t,” said Mose. “Spoils the vines. And we 
don’t want these vines spoiled, I guess.” 

“ Now, that ’s all to-night,” decided Thad, when 
three weary boys had bobbed up and down, up 
and down, all over the cucumber patch, and had 
put all that they cut into baskets. 

“ The corn ’ll get picked in the morning,” said 
Thad. 

Mose looked at him with a droll smile. Thad’s 


HUCKSTERING 


143 


manners were very much improved, no doubt, but 
Thad in the background waiting for others to 
lead was what nobody had seen yet. 

When Mose reached home it was dark and the 
children were about to be put to bed. Annie 
was good-natured, but the baby was cross. He 
had missed Mose. 

“ Baby want to go to town in the morning ? ” 
asked the big brother with a smile. 

“ Baby do town in morninV’ assented the little 
fellow, joyfully. 

“Hustle into bed, then,” said Mose, “or you 
won’t wake up in time.” 

“ Me hustle,” said the baby, and he shut his 
eyes tight. 

“Now, what we want to do,” said Thad the 
next morning, when he had hastily swallowed his 
breakfast, done up his chores and driven over to 
Dan’s, “what we want to do is to get ahead of 
that other huckster. ’T won’t be any use to go 
driving along behind him.” 

“ ‘ Will you have some corn to-day, ma’am ? ’ ” 
(Thad, very businesslike.) “ ‘ No thank you, I ’ve 
just bought,’” came the answer in a complacent 
falsetto, intended to represent a lost customer. 
“ We do n’t want much of that, do we, Dan ? ” 


144 


DAN DBUBIMOND 


“ Of course not,” laughed Dan. 

“All right. Let’s pick that corn, then.” 

The spring wagon and team belonged to Mr. 
Duncan, who had very cheerfully lent them to the 
boys for an indefinite time to be used as often as 
they saw fit. 

“ It is very kind of your father,” Dan had said 
gratefully. 

“ Of course it is,” agreed Thad. “ But that 
ain’t anything. That ’s the sort of a man pa is.” 

With a happy sigh Dan acknowledged that fact, 
as, in the freshness of the morning, the two boys 
jogged on their way to the Baxters’. 

The minister and his wife and the little girls 
had all looked after them and wished them good- 
speed as they drove off. And the moment they 
turned the last corner and came in sight of the 
Baxter home a shrill cheer from childish voices 
arose at the Baxter gate. 

“ Just look at the things in the wagon ! ” cried 
Susie as the boys stopped before her. “And 
Mose and Annie and the baby are going to help 
sell all of them,” she added with a wishful 
look. 

“ Sell all of ’em ! ” cried the enraptured baby. 

It was only a few minutes after eight when they 


HUCKSTERING 


145 


reached the outskirts of the town. But they 
drove straight on, for here the lots were large, 
and every house had a garden. 

“ Say,” said Thad, “ let ’s take turns a-selling. 
Will you? ” And he looked eagerly at Dan. 

“To be sure,” answered Dan, who could not 
help feeling touched by the genuine interest in 
his success which his two friends displayed. 

“ You may sell first, Thad,” he added with a 
smile. 

“ All right ! ” cried the gratified Thad, reach- 
ing back for an ear of corn. “Here we are.” 
And he jumped lightly down at the door of a 
rather small but neat house. 

“Good-morning,” said Thad with his best smile 
and bow and a lift of the hat to the woman who 
answered his knock. 

She eyed him doubtfully. 

“ You buy your vegetables ? ” 

“ Yes,” was the reluctant admission. 

“Would you like some corn?” 

The woman glanced at the small ear in Thad’s 
left hand, and shook her head. 

At that moment Thad deftly turned back the 
husks from the end of the ear revealing the pearly 

kernels of the corn. 

10 


146 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“That’s nice,” admitted the woman involun- 
tarily. 

“ It ’s the ‘ Country Gentleman,’ ma’am. The 
ears are always small, but the corn is choice.” 

“ What do you charge ? ” 

At this question Thad was dismayed. What 
ought he to charge ? What was the market price 
of corn? 

“ I do n’t know,” he stammered. 

The woman looked surprised. She glanced 
past Thad at the waiting wagon with its two boys 
and two children. 

“ Whose garden stuff is this you ’re selling ? ” 
she asked severely. 

“ Dan Drummond’s,” answered Thad. 

“ Is one of them boys him ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Which one ? ” 

“ The one on this side.” 

The woman looked at him attentively. “ He ’s 
nice looking,” she said. “ What ’s he selling 
garden stuff for? Ain’t he got no folks ? ” 

“ Yes, he has,” answered Thad vigorously. 
For the entire neighborhood were now Dan’s 
folks. “ He lives at Mr. Hilbert’s. Mr. Hilbert’s 
our minister, and he ’s going to send Dan to col- 



“Would You like some Corn?” 



HUCKSTERING 


147 


lege and Dan wants to help. That ’s the reason 
he raised garden stuff, and now he ’s going to sell 
it.” 

“ Seems to me he ’s young to be talking about 
college. How old is he ? ” 

“ Thirteen.” 

“I thought that’s about what he was,” came 
the complacent rejoinder. 

“It takes lots of money to go to college and 
he ’s beginning now so ’s he ’ll have enough when 
he’s ready,” volunteered Thad. 

Now beginning in time was this woman’s 
hobby. She looked once more at Dan. “ He ’s 
sensible,” she said. “ I ’ll take a dozen ears, and, 
if I was you, I ’d skip down town and find out the 
market price of all you ’ve got to sell before you 
go any farther.” 

“ Thank you,” said Thad, with another of his 
best bows. “ I will.” 

The woman watched him while he briefly ex- 
plained to Dan and Mose what he was going to 
do, and then she said to herself, “ While he ’s gone 
I guess I ’ll go out and look over what he ’s got 
and get acquainted with the rest of ’em.” 

“ That boy says you ’re going to college,” she 


148 


DAN DRUMMOND 


began, nodding her head toward the rapidly dis- 
appearing Thad. 

“ Yes, madam,” was the polite answer. 

“ This is nice garden, stuff you ’ve got. He 
said,” with another nod toward the direction in 
which Thad had vanished, “ that you raised it.” 

“ Yes, madam.” 

“ I guess I ’ll take some of them potatoes^a 
peck will do, and I ’ll have a half-dozen cucum- 
bers. But where ’s your peck measure ?” she con- 
tinued, looking around. 

“We have — haven’t any,” answered Dan look- 
ing disturbed. 

“ Never mind. I ’ll lend you mine to-day, and 
to-morrow you can bring it back. You ’ll do it, I 
know, for them that begins in time is honest, as a 
general rule.” 

When Dan had carried the things in for her she 
sat down a moment to think. Dan had said very 
little, but his words and looks had been so engag- 
ing that they had had the same effect on this wo- 
man which they had always had and always would 
have on any woman who came in contact with 
him. 

“ I believe I had ought to help that boy,” she 
said at last, “ and I will.” 


HUCKSTERING 


149 


Slie rose up, took an ear of corn and stepped 
over to a neighbor’s. And less than five minutes’ 
talk sent the neighbor as a purchaser to the 
wagon. Then she went to another and another 
with equal success, and Dan was driving quite a 
pretty trade when Thad came back with the 
prices. 


CHAPTER XV 


A VACATION 

There had been twenty dozen ears of corn, 
ten dozen cucumbers, ten cents worth of beans, 
and three bushels of potatoes in the wagon when 
it left home that morning, and by ten o’clock 
nothing was left but one bushel of potatoes and 
five dozen cucumbers. 

“Now,” said Thad, “let’s take these potatoes 
to Mr. Norton. He ’ll want ’em, and we can ask 
him what to do with these cucumbers. I do n’t 
believe we can sell ’em.” 

“I don’t either,” said Dan. 

“ Funny that town folks do n’t care any more 
about cucumbers than they do,” continued Thad. 
“ I should think they 'd jump at ’em, as cheap as 
they are, — only five cents a dozen. They would 
if they liked ’em as well as I do.” 

“I guess that’s the reason they’re cheap,” re- 
marked Mose. “Pa says what folks don’t care 

nothin’ about is always cheap, and what every- 
150 


A VACATION 


151 


body ’s bound to have is always dear. It ’s the 
same way when things are plenty and things are 
scarce.” 

While they talked they drove and soon they 
drew up in front of Mr. Norton’s store where 
they all, and especially the baby, met with a warm 
reception. He was lifted out by Mr. Norton him- 
self, carried to the showcase and given a stick of 
candy, while Dan and Thad and Mose and Annie 
swarmed around. 

“ Say,” said Thad, getting as close to Mr. Nor- 
ton as he could, “ what had we better do with 
those five dozen cucumbers ont in the wagon that 
we have n’t sold ? ” And he looked up with the 
air of one business man consulting another. 

“ I guess you ’d better throw them on the dump, 
my boy, as you go home.” 

Thad looked gloomy. Secretly he had hoped 
that Mr. Norton would suggest a market for the 
cucumbers. To have them hang sale and then to 
be held so worthless made him downcast. His 
look was such a funny imitation of what Mr. 
Norton had often seen on the faces of middle- 
aged men that he burst into a hearty laugh. 

At this Thad seemed hurt. But Mr. Norton 
gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “That’s 


152 


DAN DRUMMOND 


what I do with what I can’t sell,” he said. “I 
send it to the dump.” 

That was all, but Thad cheered up at once. 
He saw that a dump was necessary to a business 
man. 

“Can’t sell everything, my boy,” continued 
Mr. Norton. “ There will be some left-overs.” 

“ Tell you what ! ” said Thad as the five drove 
slowly away, “Mr. Norton ’s the man. And now, 
when we get out at the edge of town, let’s count 
the money. We ought to have about three dol- 
lars.” 

When they counted, they found that this was 
one of the times where what they ought to have 
and what they did have tallied. 

“ My, Mose ! that ’s a dollar more than you cal- 
culated on,” cried Thad delightedly. 

“ Dan ’s all right,” he went on. “ His garden ’s 
a-going to make it in spite of his old turnips.” 

They had now come to the dump. 

“ I just hate to shy these cucumbers out,” went 
on the irrepressible Thad. “ Say ! ” he cried as a 
new thought struck him, “ the horses ’ll stand. 
Let ’s take turns and fire ’em at that pile of cans 
yonder.” 

The horses heard the word “ Whoa ! ” and 


A VACATION 


153 


obeyed it, their lazy feet planting themselves as 
if they never intended to move again. 

“ Now ! ” cried Thad giving the word. And 
such a bombardment began as the dump had 
never seen before. Annie looked on with inter- 
est, and the baby squealed in delight. 

Dan was the best shot, but neither Thad nor 
Mose was jealous. They were content to have it 
so. 

“Tell you what!” exclaimed Thad when the 
last cucumber was gone, “ I ’ve learned a lesson 
this morning. When you have to dump things 
you may as well fire ’em and have a good time 
over it as to lay ’em out easy with a doleful wail. 
I move we bring all the cucumbers to town even 
if we can’t sell ’em. We can dump ’em, any- 
way.” 

“ Dump ! ” said the baby. “ Dump ! Baby 
likes dump. Bitty dump.” 

Every day the five went to town and every day 
the money for Dan slowly mounted up. 

“ This huckstering ’s just gay,” declared Thad. 
“ Pa says we ’re doing splendid. He thinks folks 
must favor us. All I have to say is, just let ’em 
keep on. I ’m willing.” 

Not every day did the boys take home three 


154 


DAN DRUMMOND 


dollars. But every day they took home some- 
thing, and so the summer waned and autumn 
came again. 

Once more there was a visitor in the neighbor- 
hood, or rather there were two. For Thad’s 
grandmother had come again and at the parson- 
age one of Mrs. Hilbert’s girlhood friends was a 
guest. 

She was a very wealthy woman, this friend of 
Mrs. Hilbert’s, though no one would have known 
it by her dress, which was simple, or by her man- 
ner, which was very quiet. Old Mrs. Halfhill 
took a great fancy to her, she was such a good 
listener. And she, too, liked Mrs. Halfhill. But 
his grandmother did not forget Thad. She had a 
sharp eye upon him to note his progress, and 
day by day a more satisfied look came on her 
face. 

“ There ’s re’ly no occasion for ‘ only ’ children 
to be so bad,” she said to herself. “ Franklin and 
Mehitabel are going to have a sight o’ comfort 
out o’ Thad yet. Though, for that matter, they 
seem to be having considerable now. He ’s sort o’ 
hullsome homely. Does you good to look at him. 
And his manners! Well, they’re coming up to 
Dan’s fast. I never did see no manners just like 


A VACATION 


155 


Dan’s. They ’re so ketching, too. Wherever he 
goes, there you ’ll see politeness following after. 
I do n’t hardly know any of the boys round here, 
they ’re so different. Some folks have an idea 
that boys must eat, and stuff, and be on the ram- 
page generally, just because they’re boys. But 
that ’s no sort of a notion. It ’s the boys that go 
rampaging around and doing what they’ve a 
mind to the whole time that take to drink and 
gambling. Boys left to themselves seldom take a 
notion to work, now I tell you. Solomon knew 
that, and boys are pretty much the same now as 
they always were, I guess. Once in a while you 
see one that’s different, like Dan, but not often.” 

Dan’s garden was a thing of the past, and as he 
thought of the thirty-five dollars he had turned 
over to Mr. Hilbert his heart was jubilant. 
School had begun again, and he was very busy, 
but he made as much leisure for Mrs. Hilbert as 
he could, so that she could enjoy her guest’s stay ; 
and toward this stranger in the house he was his 
own polite, attentive self. 

“ Addie, I envy you that boy ! ” exclaimed Mrs. 
Delaney one day. “ If I had only seen him first!” 
she added playfully. 

“ Ah, but you did n’t ! ” answered Mrs. Hilbert, 


156 


DAN DRUMMOND 


About the middle of October Mrs. Delaney 
went home, Miss Afton was unavoidably called 
away for a week, and Dan was given a vacation. 

“ What may I do ? ” he asked. 

“Anything you like,” answered Mr. Hilbert. 
“Take the horse and buggy and do as you like, 
my boy.” 

Then Dan saw another chance. 

Down on the river bottom, a few miles away, 
were numerous hickory trees. Whoever chose 
might pick the nuts, and this year the trees were 
loaded. But he said nothing. He only put some 
empty grain sacks into the buggy, took his lunch 
and a feed for the horse, and, with a merry 
“ Good-bye,” drove off. 

“ Best boy in the world ! ” said Mr. Hilbert 
heartily, as he watched him out of sight. 

In the morning Dan had driven north. At 
dusk he came driving home from the south, looking 
tired but happy, and in the bottom of the buggy 
were the two empty grain sacks. The horse did 
not look tired. He had stood most of the day 
while Dan picked nuts busily. Then he had 
trotted off to town by the other road — the road 
that led past the cemetery and crossed the rail- 
way track at the depot. 


A VACATION 


157 


Dan had gone that way because he was not apt 
to meet any of the neighbors on that road. 

The grain sacks were empty, but there were 
coins in Dan’s pocket that had not been there in 
the morning, though he did not mention them. 

The next morning Dan was up and off again. 
He had made a contract the day before with Mr. 
Norton, and, to encourage him, he had the knowl- 
edge that he could sell as many nuts as he chose 
to take to market. And again at night he drove 
home tired and happy. 

But the morning of the third day, an hour after, 
Dan had left home, Tliad and Mose came in search 
of him. The minister could not tell where he 
had gone. There had been a slight rain the night 
before which had laid the dust. 

“ Let ’s track him ! ” cried Thad. 

Away went the two boys for lunch and a horse 
apiece, and they were soon galloping after the 
fresh tracks. 

“ He ’s gone to the river bottom,” said Mose 
after a little while. 

“But what did he go alone for? He might 
have known we wanted to go with him,” grum- 
bled Thad. 

“ There ’s the buggy now, hitched under a tree,” 


158 


DAN DRUMMOND 


said Mose a few moments later, pointing with his 
riding- whip. 

“ And there ’s Dan going to it,” cried Thad. 
“Say, Mose, he’s picking nuts. And I know 
what for. Let ’s help him.” 

“ Of course ! ” responded Mose. 

Three boys not only filled the sacks, but loaded 
the box of the buggy, and made a lot of fun out 
of it, too. And then away they went to town, 
Thad and Mose each with a sack of nuts thrown 
over his horse’s back, and Dan with very little 
room in the buggy for himself. 

“ Look at that horse shy and back ! ” exclaimed 
Thad as they crossed the track at the depot. 
“ Mose, there ’s a woman in that buggy, and she ’s 
scared, too. Here, take this bridle.” And down 
slipped Thad to stand in a quarter of a second at 
the side of the phaeton. It’s wheels were turn- 
ing this way and that, but Thad was agile, and 
quickly scrambled to the lady’s side. He took 
the lines from the trembling hands. “ What’s his 
name ? ” he asked. 

“ Dandy,” replied the frightened voice. There 
was a steady pull on the lines, and a cheery voice 
called, “ Go ahead. Dandy ! ” 

Dandy went ahead, his nostrils quivering with 


A VACATION 


159 


excitement. But the steady pull on the lines was 
still there. The horse began to recognize that 
there was nothing to fear, and settled down to his 
ordinary gait. 

“ How can I thank you ? He would have run 
away with me in a moment more,’^ said the lady. 

“ Yes’m,” said Thad smiling. “He was afraid, 
and he knew you were, too.” 

The lady looked surprised. 

“ Horses always know when the one driving 
them ’s afraid,” said Thad simply. 

“ Do you know any one by the name of Dun- 
can?” asked Mrs. Griggs of her husband that 
evening. And then she told him about Thad. 

“ Such a gentlemanly boy ! ” she concluded. 

If Thad could only have heard her ! For he 
was quite as anxious to be a gentleman now as 
Dan himself. But Thad could not hear her, and, 
absorbed in the price of nuts, forgot what he had 
done. 

“Going again to-morrow?” asked Mose, when 
the three were jogging along in the buggy, with 
the saddle horses trotting behind. 

“ No,” replied Dan. “ Aunt Addie looked tired 
this morning. I must stay at home to-morrow 
and help.” 


160 


DAN DRUM 310 ND 


“ There, Uncle James ! ” said Dan, as with a 
beaming face he handed him ten dollars. “ Please 
save that. It’s to help me put through college. I 
went nutting and sold the nuts. Thad and Mose 
helped me to-day.” 

The minister looked at the young face, where 
exultant happiness could not hide the traces of 
great fatigue, and he said, “ My dear boy, this is 
a queer sort of a vacation you ’ve been taking. 
You must have worked very hard.” 

“ But you know,” said Dan with an affection- 
ate look, “ how much it ’s going to take to send me 
to college, and I want to help.” 

“Very well,” replied Mr. Hilbert, who honored 
Dan’s independent spirit. “ Help you shall ; but 
you ’re well worth all I or anybody else can do for 
you, Dan,” 


CHAPTER XVI 


ANCIENT HISTORY 

That fall the boys had begun studying Ancient 
History. One afternoon Dan, Mose, and Thad 
were learning their lesson together at Mr. Hil- 
bert’s. They did everything together now, and 
they led the neighborhood, so far as its boys were 
concerned. 

“ I just do n’t like Ancient History,” said Thad, 
thumping his book. “ What ’s the good of it ? 
These old fellows lived two thousand years ago, 
some of ’em, and here we are having to learn 
what they did and all about ’em. I guess two 
thousand years after this there won’t anybody be 
working like fury to try to remember what we 
did.” 

“ ’Tis awful hard,” assented Mose with a yawn. 
“ I can’t seem to get interested in it.” ^ 

“ This old Roman king did this, and that old 
Roman king did that, and t’other old Roman king 
did t’other, and we’ve got to remember all about 

it,” went on Thad wrath fully. 

11 161 


162 


DAN DRUMMOND 


‘'Well,” said Dan, “it’s a part of college, you 
know. We can’t go to college if we don’t learn 
it” 

“ Do you like it?” demanded Thad. 

“ Why, no, I do n’t just like it,” admitted Dan. 
“ I feel as if I did n’t understand who they ’re 
talking about.” 

Mr. Hilbert came in from the next room where, 
quite unknown to the boys, he had chanced to be. 

“ Dan ’s hit it, boys,” he said, cordially. “ You 
do n’t understand Ancient History ; the people 
are shadowy to you ; that ’s the reason you do n’t 
like it.” 

“ But how are we going to get to understand 
it?” asked Thad in a grumbling tone. “We learn 
all the book says.” 

Mr. Hilbert smiled. “No book to be studied 
in a schoolroom ever tells all there is to tell about 
any subject,” he said. “ And the most interest- 
ing things are what the schoolbook generally 
leaves out.” 

“4Iumph ! ” said Thad. “ I should think, judg- 
ing by this one, that they did. I get at it and 
learn a lot by heart and in a week it ’s all mixed 
up in my mind and then I begin to forget it.” 

“That’s all right,” commented Mr, Hilbert, 


ANCIENT HISTORY 


163 


Thad stared. “ I thought ’t was all wrong,” he 
said, “ and that ’s what made me mad.” 

“ No,” replied Mr. Hilbert. “ The only things 
that people always remember are the things they 
understand. And it is strange, but to feel really 
interested in anything you must be able to con- 
nect it in some way with yourselves, or the time 
in which you live.” 

“No wonder we don’t like it,” said Thad. 
“How can we connect those old Romans in any 
way with us ? ” 

“ In three ways,” responded Mr. Hilbert. “ The 
Christ, our Saviour, was born under Roman rule. 
The laws of our own land are based on the Roman 
code, and a great many words in our language are 
directly or indirectly from the Latin.” 

The boys all looked mystified. 

“ In these books,” and Mr. Hilbert pointed to 
his own well-filled shelves with a smile, “ you can 
find some of the most interesting things you ever 
read of, and about those old Romans too. 

“ They did not dress as we do ; their buildings 
were not like ours ; but you will read of some 
grand deeds they did that will stir your hearts, as 
well as cruel and dastardly things that will make 
your blood boil.” 


164 


DAN DRUMMOND 


He stepped across the room and took down 
Macaulay’s “ Lays of Ancient Rome.” He opened 
at “Horatius.” “Listen ! ” he said, and he began 
to read. 

The boys did listen. At the close of the poem, 
the minister, looking at their faces full of a noble 
excitement, told himself that the Romans were 
likely to receive justice at the hands of three 
boys, at any rate. 

“ That ’s fine ! ” said Dan with an affectionate 
glance at Mr. Hilbert. 

Mose said nothing, but he looked his appreci- 
ation. 

“ Fine ! ” exclaimed Thad. “ I should say it 
was ! Those old Romans are worth learning about, 
and I think our history book ought to be ashamed 
of itself. Who’d know the Romans were any- 
thing from that book ? ” 

“Say, Mr. Hilbert,” said Thad a week later, 
“we’ve been connecting the old Romans with us, 
and we ’ve every one found something.” 

The boys were about to begin a Latin recita- 
tion, but Mr. Hilbert paused with an expectant 
smile that caused Thad to go on. “ We ’ve got a 
senate, too, but our senators ain’t old men like 
those the Gauls killed, ’cause I asked pa, and he 


ANCIENT HISTORY 


165 


said they were n’t. And, say, it’s votes that make 
senators. I ’ll help make ’em some day, and I ’ll 
help make good ones, too.” 

“That’s right, Thad,” was the approving an- 
swer. Then turning to Mose he said, “ What was 
it, Mose ? ” 

“There are newspapers,” said Mose half-hesi- 
tatingly, “ called The Tribune, Ought n’t they to 
be the papers that speak for the people and say 
veto to whatever is n’t best for ’em ? ” 

“ Yes, Mose.” 

“We have consuls,, too,” said Tom Waring. 
“ Only they ’re not a bit like the old Roman con- 
suls. Lots of men would like to be American 
consuls if they could.” 

Mr. Hilbert smiled. “ I think they would,” he 
said. 

“ Every college has a campus,'' put in Joe Whit- 
man. “And Aunt Hat says Boston Common was 
a campus Martius before the battle of Bunker Hill.” 

“ Well done ! ” cried Mr. Hilbert. “ Will, what 
is your contribution ? ” 

“ The eagle was the emblem of Rome, and the 
eagle is the emblem of America,” said Will, who, 
in his quiet way, was coming to be very enthusi- 
astic over old Rome. 


166 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ And now, Dan ? ” 

“ Rome was the greatest republic of the ancient 
world, and America is the greatest republic of the 
modern world.” 

“ And now I have a question to ask,” said Mr. 
Hilbert. “ Do you boys like Ancient History ? ” 

“ I should say we did ! ” came the emphatic 
answer. 

Mr. Hilbert smiled. “ Can you tell why? ” 

Nobod}'- spoke for a moment. 

“I think,” said Dan modestly, “ it ’s because 
everything you learn in it, when you learn it 
right, explains something else.” 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Hilbert, approvingly. “ That 
is true of everything in the world when, as Dan 
says, you learn it right. Known and unknown 
hinge together and are parts of the perfect 
whole.” 

Another week went by, and then exuberant 
Thad held forth again. 

“ First thing that struck me when I began on 
the old Romans in earnest was King Tarquin the 
Elder, the one that built the circus,” he said. 
“ Our school history mentioned it. I thought he' 
must have been a pretty jolly king, for I always 
like a circus. I thought I ’d look it up, and see 


ANCIENT HISTORY 


167 


how big a tent he had and how many clowns, and 
animals, and trick dogs, and ponies, and elephants. 
And the first thing I noticed was the word built. 
The book said he built a circus. ‘ That ’s funny ! ’ 
I said to myself. And I kept a-thinking and a- 
thinking. But all my thinking didn’t do any 
good, and so I went and looked it up in different 
books, and that old Roman circus wasn’t a bit like 
our circus. The only thing in it was the chariot 
races. That fighting was awful. Call Mm a jolly 
old king ! What would be done with him nowa- 
days, I wonder ? ” And Thad looked about him 
indignantly. “If folks ever tell me this world’s 
a-getting worse and worse, I ’ll just ask ’em what 
they think of the old Roman circus, and if they 
know where to find such a thing now.” 

The rest of the boys laughed, and Mr. Hilbert 
smiled. 

“ Thad takes old Rome hard, just as he takes 
everything else,” said Mose. 

“Well,” said Dan with a friendly glance at 
Thad, “we all feel pretty much that way, I 
guess.” 

“ Only we do n’t speak out,” added Will Mot- 
ley. 

“ Let Thad speak,” said Mr. Hilbert heartily. 


168 


DAN DRUMMOND 


looking around his class. “ One out of every six 
ought to speak.” 

Thad glowed with appreciation. “ Thank you, 
sir,” he said. “ But you do n’t get manners so 
fast when you’re always a-speaking out,” he 
added humbly. 

“Nevertheless, your manners are improving, 
Thad,” said Mr. Hilbert, kindly. 

“Well,” said Thad to himself that night, “ I 
suppose manners are like everything else — some 
folks can manage ’em easier than others. I think 
Mose has got more than I have, and I know Dan 
has.” And he sighed. “It’s like driving four 
horses abreast in a chariot race ; Manners, and 
Ancient History, and Doing Other Things, and 
Having Fun, all hitched up alongside. Thing is, 
to make ’em pull even and get over the ground 
together. And it ’s a pretty hard job.” 

The boys were now reading Caesar’s Com- 
mentaries and had begun on the Greek grammar. 
Old Mrs. Halfhill took a strong interest in Thad’s 
translations. 

“ No matter how old you are,” she exclaimed 
one day, “you can always learn something. As 
long as I can remember I ’ve heard people saying 
‘ Great Caesar ! ’ when anything astonished ’em. 


ANCIENT HISTORY 


169 


And well they might. If he was n’t great I never 
heard of nobody that was. He was a little mite 
liiird-hearted, though, seems to me, even for them 
days when hearts must have been pretty flinty, 
take the general run of ’em. That’s the trouble 
with getting great. It’s apt to harden the heart. 
I’d rather there shouldn't nobody ever hear of 
you, Thad, than to have 3^011 get that complaint. 
Your heart’s about right now; not so soft as to 
be silly, and not too hard, neither.” 

Thad smiled. He liked to have his grand- 
mother praise him, for he alone knew how hard 
her adverse criticisms of his former greedy and 
idle self had been to bear. And seeing she had 
flnished her remarks, he went on with his reading, 
while the old lady listened attentively. 

“Well,” said Mrs. Halfhill to herself in her 
room one evening, “ I have n’t got but one grand- 
child, and I don’t know but one’s enough when 
he suits as well as Thad. I always did look at 
quality instead of quantity. And then, being as 
he ’s the only one, I can think just as much of him 
as I ’ve a mind to without feeling that I ’m partial 
to him. Now there ’s Mrs. Baxter. I should think 
she ’d feel a little uneasy for fear the rest of her 
children should n’t come up to Mose. But then. 


170 


DAN DRUMMOND 


of course, she can hope they will, and hope ’s some- 
thing. And if they do, her cup will be full, for if 
I was n’t Thad’s grandmother I do n’t know but 
I’d think Mose about equaled him. As it is, 
Thad ’s a little mite ahead.” 

Now Mr. Griggs was a hardware merchant, and 
seeing Mr. Duncan one day in his store, he took 
occasion to tell him what Thad had done for his 
wife. Mr. Duncan said little, but he felt some 
pride, and when he reached home related the 
affair to his wife and his mother-in-law. 

“ Well !” exclaimed old Mrs. Half hill after a 
moment’s reflection, “that’s what he did, is it? 
Seeing it ’s Thad, he could n’t have done nothing 
else. Thad ’s got to be a pretty active boy, and 
he ain’t more active in nothing than he is in help- 
ing them that need help. I don’t think there ’s 
nothing sinful in being proud of him.” 

A statement with which Mr. and Mrs. Duncan 
fully agreed. 


CHAPTER XVII 


OLD ROMANS 

Miss Afton soon saw that, to her Ancient 
History class, the old Romans were very real 
people, and instead of skipping past them with a 
brief mention of what they did, she let the boys 
linger as long as they liked. 

“ That school history ’s no good,” said Thad one 
day. “ Looks to me as if it told just as little as it 
could, and left out all the interesting parts. 
What it says is all right, though, when you Ve 
been somewhere else and learned all it does n’t 
say.” 

And the class agreed with him. 

Of course, in a town graded school Miss Afton 
would have been obliged to follow the prescribed 
book, no matter how distasteful to her boys. 
But in the country it was different. She had 
large liberty, and she was a true teacher, and she 
knew that in this her boys were right. 

Presently the Ancient History class included 
171 


172 


DAN DRUMMOND 


the whole school, for, while it recited, none of the 
younger children could do anything else but 
listen. How they listened was apparent when 
one day little Joe Baxter burst into indignant 
sobs. Dan had just been giving, in a very 
graphic manner, the story of Marcus Manlius. 
As he went on, the children seemed to see every 
scene enacted, and when Manlius was thrown 
down the Tarpeian Rock, at last, little Joe’s grief 
burst forth. 

“ I do n’t care,” he said to Miss Afton’s sooth- 
ing. “ They was mean old Romans to do it, so 
they was ! He did n’t want to be no king, neither, 
and they was mean.” 

Every child in the school now knew what a 
helmet was, and a shield, and what sandals were. 
And when, on Sunday, Mr. Hilbert read, “ Put 
on the whole armor of God,” they listened as they 
Imd never listened before, for they heard with 
understanding ears. As they looked about them 
over the beautiful rolling prairie, it took very 
little imagination to understand how the seven 
hills of Rome were situated. 

“I thought,” said little Joe Baxter, “that all 
the things you had to learn in school were hard 
things that 3^ou didn’t like. But the Romans is 


OLD ROMANS 


173 


just one great big story. Beats them old bad 
things Mose used to read. He said so.” 

“Yes, sir,” corroborated little Phil Waring. 
“ Beats Injins and bears, too.” 

“ Say,” said Arthur Baxter, “ we Ve been Injins 
more ’n once, but we ain’t never been old Romans 
yet. Let ’s be ’em.” 

Then there was an excitement which cooled 
very suddenly as they realized the difficulty of 
getting proper costumes. 

“ We ’ve got to have shields,” began Joe Baxter. 

“ Oh, wait a minute ! ” cried Arthur. “ I know 
something.” 

The little fellows were all at Mr. Baxter’s and 
they waited with impatient curiosity while Arthur 
ran. 

When he came back his face was red from ex- 
ertion, for he had been hastily pulling over a pile 
of rubbish in the shed back of the barn, but on 
his right arm he carried an old tin wash-boiler lid, 
his small arm proudly thrust through the tin band 
that formed the handle. 

“ Oh ! ” cried Bert Waring, admiringly. 

“ That’s a dandy shield ! ” exclaimed Phil. 

“ Where did you get it?” asked Joe Baxter. 

“Out in the shed,” answered Arthur, very 


174 


DAN DRUMMOND 


happy. “ ’T is n’t just the right shape, but it ’ll 
do.” 

“’Course it will,” said Bob Motley. “Trouble 
is, we have n’t all got ’em.” 

It was then that Thad happened along. He 
grinned at the thought of the old Romans shield- 
ing themselves from the enemy with old tin boiler 
lids, but he came to the rescue, nevertheless. 

“ What ’s the matter with old barrel lids, or 
pasteboard box lids with a leather strap nailed on 
to put your arm through ? ” he asked. 

There was nothing the matter, as he saw from 
their faces, whereupon he graciously added, “ I ’ll 
make ’em for you. Where ’s Mose ? ” 

“In the house a-studying,” said Joe. 

“ My, but it ’s chilly ! ” began Thad, as he 
entered the Baxter sitting-room. “ But the little 
fellows don’t know it; they’re too busy. What 
do you think they ’re up to ? ” 

Mose looked interested, whereat Thad went on, 
“ Playing Romans, just as we used to play Indians. 
Tell you what, they just take to the old Romans, 
and no wonder ! ” 

Mose laughed, and Mrs. Baxter, who had over- 
heard from the kitchen, stepped to the window 
and looked out. Arthur still wore his shield 


OLD ROMANS 


175 


while he took an active part in the deliberations 
of his friends. 

“What’ll we do for helmets?” Phil Waring was 
asking. 

“ I move we go to the shed and look for ’em,” 
said Joe. “ There’s more’n one old tin kettle out 
there or I ’m mistaken.” 

Away went the Romans as if the Carthaginians 
were after them, and when they emerged from the 
shed a half hour later three heads were adorned 
each with an old tin kettle with the bale worn 
under the chin. 

“ My, but we ’re getting there ! ” sighed Arthur 
happily. “ The rest of the boys have n’t had time 
to look yet.” 

They had begun to discuss sandals when Dan 
came into the yard seeking Mose. He had to 
hear all about the Romans at once, and how Thad 
was going to make their shields, and how each 
boy that still lacked was to hunt up his own 
helmet. But now what should they do for san- 
dals? And having thus given a gentle hint to 
Dan they all looked at him eagerly. 

“I think I might make them,” smiled Dan, 
“ out of old boot soles and straps.” 

“ Oh, will you ? ” cried Joe. 


176 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ Yes, I will,” promised Dan, and he went into 
the house. 

“ Now next thing ’s swords,” said Phil. “ These 
little tin swords won’t do. That is, we do n’t want 
to have to make ’em do, ’cause they ain’t the right 
shape.” 

The Romans looked gloomy. They felt that 
they were rather large to take up with the Ameri- 
can toy sword. 

“ I know ! ” exclaimed Bob Motley. “ Arthur, 
you go in and ask Mose.” 

“All right,” was the answer, as Arthur, well 
shielded by the boiler lid and having his head 
protected by his kettle helmet, dashed around the 
corner. 

Mrs. Baxter smiled as he went through the 
kitchen, but she did not say anything. She was 
glad to have a son who knew that a boiler lid 
would answer for a Roman shield, and who knew 
that an old tin kettle with a hole in it was a 
helmet. 

He was laughingly received by the three boys 
in the sitting-room, and so favorably was the baby 
impressed that he wanted to be an old Roman at 
once, and don his brother’s helmet and carry the 
shield. 


OLD ROMANS 


177 


So Arthur made haste to state his errand, and 
dodged the baby as well as he could while he 
waited for his answer. 

“Yes,” said Mose after consideration, “I’m not 
very good at making things, but I guess I can 
manage. I ’ll try, anyway.” 

“ O goody ! thank you ! ” cried Arthur as he 
went out with a clatter, striking his shield on the 
door frame and rattling the kettlebail under his 
chin. 

“Now what?” he asked after he had reported 
his success to his countrymen, who were dancing 
about to keep warm. 

“ Breastplates,” answered Joe promptly. 

The boys thought in despair of the pictures 
they had seen. “ I guess we ’ll have to give ’em 
up,” was their final decision. 

“ Well, we can get along without ’em, anyway,” 
philosophically declared Bob Motley. 

“We can play the enemy came so sudden we 
did n’t have time to put ’em on, ’cause we was in 
a hurry to get out and fight.” 

“ That ’s so,” was the general agreement. And 
with that the meeting broke up, the unprovided 
boys going each to his home to look for a ket- 
tle. Joe and Arthur, laying aside their helmets 
12 


178 


DAN DRUMMOND 


and their one shield, went into the house, where 
their wishful looks so wore upon the older boys 
that they laughingly declared they could stand it 
no longer. They said they would go out at once 
and begin on the Roman shields, swords, and san- 
dals, if Joe and Arthur would stay in and amuse 
the baby. 

Ruefully the two agreed, but they told them- 
selves when the others had gone that they did n’t 
believe the old Romans stayed in to play with 
babies. 

“ That ’s the worst of it,” sighed Arthur. “We 
can’t be old Romans all the time. Part of the 
time we have to be just Americans, and then we 
have to play with the baby and do lots of other 
things we do n’t want to.” 

Meanwhile, out in the shed Dan and Thad and 
Mose were turning over the rubbish, looking for 
whatever might be available. 

“ A year ago,” said Thad, “ we did n’t know 
half as much as the little fellows know now.” 

He said “ little fellows ” because, in that neigh- 
borhood the word kid as applied to children was 
interdicted. Mose had used it once, in his efforts 
to be up to the times in slang, and his mother had 
heard him. 


OLD ROMANS 


179 


“ My son, let this be the last time,” she had 
said, “ that you call your little brother or any 
other child a He?.” 

And Mose obediently let it be the last time. 

Merrily the three worked, and Joe and Arthur 
kept the baby as still as they could, and pricked 
up their ears when they heard the sound of the 
hammer. 

“ It ’s fun for them, makin’ things for us,” said 
Joe dismally, “ but it ain’t a bit of fun for us in 
here with the baby.” 

“ Course it ain’t,” returned Arthur. 

“ Who ever heard of any one havin’ fun takin’ 
care of a baby ? But it ’s got to be done, so let ’s 
play we ’re a-keepin’ the city of Rome while the 
army is out a-fightin’.” 

“All right!” said Joe. “I’ll step up on the 
baby’s high chair and look out of the window and 
play I ’m on the wall a-lookin’ down.” 

“ I was goin’ to do that myself,” objected Ar- 
thur. 

“ Well, you can’t,” said Joe. “ Your legs ain’t 
as long as mine. You stay where you are and be 
a senator. Mebbe tlie Gauls ’ll come to get you.” 

“ Well,” said Arthur brightening. But all 
this was Greek to the baby, who, not recognizing 


180 


DAN DRUMMOND 


that he was in Rome, or anywhere else than in 
the sitting-room with two boys who seemed to care 
nothing for him, set up a howl. 

“ Mose do n’t let him howl,” remarked Susie. 

“How does he make him stop?” asked Joe 
climbing down from the Roman wall. 

“ He do n’t make him stop,” said Susie. “ He’s 
just good to him, and he do n’t howl.” 

“Oh!” said Joe. 

Mrs. Baxter came in just then. She soon saw 
how things were, and persuaded Joe and Arthur 
to change from Romans to Americans. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE ROMAN ARMY 

It was a week later that this latter-day Roman 
army, fully equipped, took the field and kept a 
sharp lookout for Etruscans, Samnites and other 
foes. 

“Injins ain’t nothin’ to it,” declared Arthur, 
guarding himself proudly with his glittering tin 
shield, and waving his wooden short sword. 
Sapolio had done wonders for his shield, and he 
hoped nobody noticed the material of his sword. 
“ I guess them ’Truscans would n’t want it jabbed 
into ’em, if ’tis only wood,” he had told himself. 
“It’s enough to make anybody say 

Phil was inclined to go skulking along in the 
fence corners, as if ready to spring out and pounce 
on the enemy. 

But Joe soon corrected that. “ The trouble 
with you, Phil,” he said, “ is that you get Injins 
and Romans mixed. You just want to take the 
middle of the road and hold your head up ; and 

the best way to do that is to stick your nose up as 
181 


182 


DAN DRUMMOND 


if you could n’t bear the thoughts of one of them 
’Truscans. You just try it now, and see how easy 
it is to keep your head up when you stick your 
nose up.” 

Phil tried it. “ ’T is easier,” he said. 

“ Course it is,” answered the gratified Joe, ele- 
vating his own nose a little higher. 

It was at tliis moment, when the whole troop 
following Joe, their leader, were elevating their 
noses in a truly scornful style, that they met Mr. 
Duncan. It might have been noticed that Mr. 
Duncan looked very queer that morning. The 
lower part of his face was solemn, but his eyes 
were exceedingly merry at sight of the Roman 
army. The army, however, did not observe it. 

“ We ’re lookin’ for ’Truscans, ” announced 
Arthur boldly. 

Mr. Duncan said he believed a force of Etrus- 
cans lay to the west near Mr. Hilbert’s. 

“ What had I ought to say to him ? ” hurriedly 
thought Arthur. “Americans would say, ‘ Thank 
you ! ’ ” And before he could think further out 
popped a “ Thank you ! ” Dan was making polite- 
ness second nature, even to the little boys. 

At once Joe Baxter wheeled his forces and 
made for the west. “ Course there ain’t no 


THE ROMAN ARMY 


183 


’Truscans there,” he said, “ but we might as well 
be going that way as any.” 

Up and down those famous old Roman hills 
they trudged while the frosty wind blew till their 
cheeks were red. 

Now Phil Waring was a natural critic of the 
existing state of all things ; so he said, “ I do n’t 
believe the old Romans had to do all their march- 
ing on Saturday.” 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when, 
with a great shout, out sprang the hated Etrus- 
cans with shield, helmet, and short sword. 

For an instant the Romans were paralyzed. 
Then with an answering shout they rushed to the 
fray. 

Shields and kettle bails rattled and clanked as 
fierce thrusts were made with the short swords, 
and evaded only by surprising activity. And the 
Romans were victorious. 

“We didn’t believe there was ’Truscans here 
when Mr. Duncan told us,” said captor Joe as he 
beamed on captive Dan. “We thought he was 
just pretending.” 

“ Did you ? ” laughed Dan. 

“The little fellows fight pretty well, don’t 
they ? ” said Thad as he meekly followed. 


184 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ All but Mose ! ” cried Arthur. “ It was awful 
hard to beat Mose.” 

The big brother smiled indulgently on the little 
one. 

“ And I beat him,” went on Arthur. “ I got 
him down.” 

“ Say,” said Bob Motley in a few moments, giv- 
ing Thad a most un-Roman like nudge to attract 
his attention, “say, when are we going to have 
some more fighting?” 

To which Thad answered that he did n’t know, 
since the Etruscans had been conquered in the 
first battle. 

By a strange chance Mr. Duncan was at that 
same place in the road when victor and van- 
quished came back from the field. 

“ There was ’Truscans there and we whipped 
’em,” cried Arthur joyfully. “ Look at the dints 
in my shield,” he continued going close up to Mr. 
Duncan. “ Every one of ’em means somebody hit 
me on the shield with his sword. There ’s four- 
teen of ’em,” he went on delightedly, “and if we 
fight much more I ’ll have to be gettin’ me another 
boiler lid.” 

Mr. Duncan gravely put his big forefinger in 
each of the dints, and with a very sober mouth 


THE ROMAN ARMY 


185 


and laughing eyes said that it must have been a 
heavy battle. 

“ Yes, sir,” said Arthur full of pride, “ it was. 
You ought to have heard the noise. ‘The din 
of war * Mose says poetry calls it, and it sounds 
nice, too.” 

By this time other Romans urged Mr. Duncan 
to examine their shields and he was surrounded 
by warriors eager to prove their valor by the 
signs of their resistance. 

“ Twelve o’clock, boys,” said Mr. Duncan, look- 
ing at his watch a few minutes later. And re- 
luctantly the Romans turned home. 

“ How did you happen to think of playing 
Etruscans?” asked Mr. Duncan of Thad as the 
two trudged along. 

Thad laughed. “’T was Dan, pa,” he answered. 
“ He thought ’t would please the little fellows.” 

Then Mr. Duncan laughed. “Well, I guess it 
pleased ’em,” he said. 

It was the next week that the Romans hap^ 
pened to think that they had no standard to carry 
into battle. 

“We’d ought to have an eagle,” declared Joe 
Baxter. “And where are we goin’ to get it?” he 
asked. He looked around upon his band, but, for 


186 


DAN DRUMMOND 


a second, no face gave him answer. Then Bob 
Motley, it was plain to be seen, had an idea. 

“ Tell you what, we can do it ! ” he cried. 
“There’s my tame rooster. We can put him on 
the end of a pole and carry him. He ’ll stay just 
where I put him, no matter where it is.” 

The problem was solved. The rooster was not 
made of silver nor yet of bronze, but he would 
do, and the whole band set out to find a suitable 
pole for him to perch on. 

“ Wonder if the Romans was ever as hard put 
to it as we are,” said Phil. 

“ Course they was,” answered Joe, “ only ’t was 
different. Why, if they had n’t been, we would n’t 
care nothin’ about ’em ; they would n’t be a bit 
interesting.” 

“ I do’ know,” returned Phil, who did not ex- 
actly relish Joe’s ways at all times. 

“Well,” retorted Joe, “you can ask Dan or 
anybody if folks cares anything about folks that 
was n’t hard put to it about sometliing. It’s most 
as good as bein’ put to it yourself to see how they 
get out.” 

By this time a pole was found that Bob decided 
would do, and the discussion ended. 


THE ROMAN ARMY 


187 


When the rooster was mounted, there was a 
dispute as to who should carry him. 

“Look at him flop his wings up there!” said 
Phil. “He wants to get down, that’s what he 
wants.” 

“Oh, he’s all right,” responded Bob complac- 
ently. “He’ll stay there till I tell him to come 
down, unless somebody knocks him off.” 

The rooster, feeling the unsteadiness of the pole 
upheld by small arms, continued to flop his wings 
uneasily, and the dispute went on. 

“Well,” remarked Bob, at last, “he’s my 
rooster, you know. Let ’s ask Dan who ’s to carry 
him. He ’s a-comin’ now.” 

Dan listened courteously to all, and then gave 
it as his opinion that, under the circumstances, 
the band had better take turns, beginning with 
Bob, who would be the best one to accustom the 
rooster to the trying scenes of warfare. 

The rooster’s name was Gyp, and he was a 
light “Brahma.” When he was a downy chick 
he had been so cruelly treated by his mother, who 
must have been an Etruscan or a Carthaginian, 
that Bob had been obliged to rescue him. He 
had been brought up on the daintiest scraps the 
table afforded, so that he felt himself quite differ- 


188 


DAN DRUMMOND 


eiit from his fellow fowls. As Bob’s pet, he had 
had many strange experiences, and he soon 
learned to take delight in the rush of a storming 
party, or the onward march of the Romans seek- 
ing an encounter with the foe. Neither was it 
long before he began to announce his sight of any 
stranger by a loud and continuous cackle. In fact, 
there was no more enthusiastic Roman than Gyp, 
who took to perching higher than ever in the oak 
before the Motley front door, keeping guard while 
Bob and the rest were at school. So rarely did 
he associate with other fowls that he did not 
deign to sleep with them in the chicken house, 
preferring to be exclusive and chilly rather than 
to be warm and gregarious. 

It was a pleasant winter, clear and cold, with 
no snow to make the roads slushy and so interfere 
with the manoeuvres of the Romans. 

That was the winter when before unheard of 
depredations began to be committed in the neigh- 
borhood. 

The Duncan family were aroused one night by 
a clatter of falling sticks, and rose in the morning 
to find their pile of cut and split stove wood sen- 
sibly diminished. 


THE ROMAN ARMY 


189 


The next thing to go was Mr. Hilbert’s horse 
blanket, which disappeared from tlie barn. 

The Waring family missed grain from the 
cribs, and there was a general exodus of chickens 
from all the farms. 

The whole neighborhood was excited. 

“Just think of it!” cried Bob Motley. 
“They’ll get Gyp next, and then what’ll we do? 
You won’t find another rooster very soon to play 
Roman eagle, that’s what you won’t. And they ’d 
ought to be dealt with before they get him.” 

The Romans looked impressed. 

“ They ’re worse than ’Truscans,” declared 
Arthur Baxter, “stealing our Roman eagle rooster. 
They had n’t better let me catch ’em at it I ” 

“ What would you do ? ” asked Thad, who had 
just come up. 

“Slap ’em with my shield, and jab ’em with my 
sword. Yes, sir, and mebbe I ’d take my helmet 
to ’em.” 

Thad laughed. “ I guess they won’t get him,” 
he said. “ I should hope they were about through. 
They ought to be prosecuted,” he ended wrath- 
fully. For who likes to have his own or his 
friends’ belongings stolen ? 

“ Yes, sir,” assented Arthur, “ they had ought to 


190 


DAN DRUMMOND 


be prosecuted. They ’d ought to be put in with 
the lions like the early Christians was. Prosecu- 
tion would be good for anybody that mean.” 
Then turning to Bob, “What you goin’ to do? 
If I was you, I ’d keep Gyp in the house.” 

“ Ma would n’t let me,” confessed Bob. “ She 
held up her hands when I asked her. Ma thinks 
Gyp ’s just a rooster. She do n’t think about him 
bein’ our Roman eagle.” 

Arthur said no more. The conviction was 
upon him that his own mother would also regard 
Gyp as nothing but a rooster. 

Those were anxious days at school, when no 
Roman kept his whole mind on his lessons ; and 
every evening the whole band went in a body to 
Mr. Motley’s to assure themselves that Gyp was 
still safe. 

It was on Friday evening that they missed him. 
It was almost dark, but their sharp eyes could 
surely have discovered Gyp on the leafless 
branches of the oak, and he would have cackled 
a greeting to them, for Gyp was no sleepyhead to 
tuck his head under his wing at four o’clock. 

“ He ’s gone ! ” said one to another. “ He ’s 
gone ! ” And then disconsolately each boy went 
home. 


THE ROMAN ARMY 


191 


It was a mystery what had become of the 
chickens. There had been no poultry offered to 
the dealers at Wennott by suspicious looking per- 
sons. There were no feathers to be found nor 
any traces of the lost fowls. And now Gyp was 
gone. 

Saturday dawned the most miserable morning 
in the lives of the Romans. 

“ I ’m goin’ to hunt him,” said Bob Motley. 
“ He was my pet Gyp long before he was our Ro- 
man — ” And here he paused, his voice quite 
choked. 

“ And I ’m goin’ to help,” said Arthur Baxter. 
“If we hustle, mebbe we’ll find him before his 
head’s off. I knew they’d get him,” he added 
gloomily, as the band set off at a brisk pace. 

It chanced that they took the path to the wood- 
sey river bottom. 

“Do n’t know what we ’re a-goin’ this way for,” 
said Phil Waring, after a while ; and, as he spoke, 
he stooped down and picked up a grain of corn. 

“We might as well go this way as any,” re- 
turned Joe. “ Nobody ’s been this way,” and he 
stooped and picked up another grain. 

“What’s that corn doing here?” demanded 
Arthur Baxter. 


192 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ Do n’t know,” said Joe. “ Somebody must 
have dropped it, I guess. Mebbe somebody was 
down here a-looking.” 

“Let’s go back,” said Phil, who was somewhat 
out of temper. 

“No, sir,” said Joe who was extremely jealous 
of any interference with his authority as captain 
of the band, or centurion^ as he loved to think of 
himself. 

“I’d be a sure enough centurion,” he often 
thought, “if I had a hundred boys under me. 
And I guess I ’d have ’em, too, if there was that 
many boys round here.” 

It was because Phil would have been very glad 
himself to lead that there were so many jangles 
between the two. He now looked up in the air 
at nothing in particular. He was fond of that 
look, because it always roused Joe’s temper. It 
did, not fail this morning. 

“We’re goin’ straight on,” declared Joe, “till 
we come to the bushes down on the bottom.” 

“ And then are we goin’ home ? ” asked Phil in 
a most exasperating tone. 

“We are if I say so,” replied Joe hotly. 

“Well, if we’re goin’, let’s go! ” cried Arthur 
impatiently. “ Gyp’s head may be took off any 


THE ROMAN ARMY 


193 


minute while Joe and Phil’s a-havin’ it out. I 
wish ’t there was two centurions to every band, 
and then we could have peace.” 

At this both Joe and Phil colored. Neither 
wished to appear over anxious to rule, and Joe 
ordered the band forward with alacrity. As they 
went they saw more corn strewn along, and the 
wondering Romans commented upon it. 

“Must be whoever was out lookin’ had a hole 
in his pocket,” observed Arthur. 

“ There ain’t any men around here with holes 
in their pockets,” snapped Phil. 

“ That ’s so,” agreed Arthur. 

Bob said nothing. He was miserably dreading 
that fate for Gyp which Arthur was so ready to 
predict. Poor Gyp with his head off, never to 
crow and cackle and flop his wings again, as, 
perched aloft, he was borne into battle ! 

“Corn’s getting thicker,” said Bert Waring as 
the Romans pushed on. 

“Hush up!” exclaimed Joe with such an ex- 
pectant look on his face that every voice was 
stilled. 

“Thought I heard something,” said Joe’s face. 

Then sounded a crow — Gyp’s crow! And, fol- 
lowing that came a cackle — Gyp’s cackle ! 

13 


194 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ Gyp ! Gyp ! ’’ cried Bob, rushing forward. 

The Romans broke ranks and ran. Some 
tripped over sticks and one fell down ; but it so 
happened that all at the same instant looked into 
a big chicken trap. 

“ O Gyp ! Gyp ! ” called Bob delightedly while 
the other boys were too amazed to speak. There 
were their own chickens ! Yes, every chicken 
that was missing in the neighborhood. 

A moment would have seen them released, when 
Dan and Thad arrived, attracted by the uproar of 
the Romans, for all of them had recovered the use 
of their tongues and were using them simultane- 
ously. 

“ Hurrah for the Romans ! ’’ cried Dan. 

“ Whoop ! ” echoed Thad. “ Now liustle and 
tell the folks while we stand guard.” 

The Romans hustled, taking Gyp along with 
them. And very soon a man from each of the 
farms was there to identify the chickens and tie 
their feet together preparatory to carrying them 
home. 

“Well,” commented old Mrs. Halfhill, “I’m 
glad this neighborhood is cornin’ to understand 
how much it owes to Dan.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Duncan looked mystified. 


THE ROMAN ARMY 


195 


“ ’T was Dan taking up with the Romans that 
got Thad and Mose and the rest interested in ’em. 
Over where I live there ain’t no Dan, and I don’t 
know of any of the boys paying any attention to 
the Romans. Next thing, when Thad and Mose 
and the rest got a good start the little boys took 
it up, and got to be ragin’ Romans with a regular 
eagle of a rooster, and found all the chickens that 
was stole. Why, it’s a chain,” she ended. 

Mr. and Mrs. Duncan laughed. 

As for the Romans, they gave all the glory to 

Gyp- 

“ If he had n’t a-crowed and cackled,” said Bob, 
“ we would n’t have found nothin’.” 

“ No, sir, we would n’t,” corroborated Arthur. 
“ For we did n’t know nothing about chicken traps 
and was n’t lookin’ for ’em.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


GREEKS 

With the opening of spring, tlie Romans laid 
aside their armor and devoted themselves to 
marbles, tops, and hopping on one foot, with all 
the zest of Americans. 

“ Are you going to have a garden this year ? ’* 
asked Thad of Dan. “’Cause, if you are, pa’ll 
lend us his team again.” 

“I don’t know,” returned Dan. 

It was the spring vacation, and Mrs. Duncan 
and Thad were spending an afternoon hour at the 
parsonage. Dan was looking thin and pale. His 
hitherto tireless energy had begun to flag. Mrs. 
Duncan looked at him while Mr. Hilbert was say- 
ing, “Dan needs rest and a change. I wish I 
could giv^ it to him.” 

Then Mrs. Duncan had an idea. “ Why not 
let him come and spend two days and two nights 
at our house ? ” she asked. 

“ That’s it ! ” cried Thad. “ You have n’t ever 
been at our house to stay all night.” 

196 


GREEKS 


197 


Dan’s eyes brightened. He had grown very 
fond of Thad. The minister and his wife saw 
Dan’s look and they made haste to accept their 
neighbor’s invitation for him. And so, on the 
wide buggy seat, a little later, Mrs. Duncan rode 
home with a boy on each side of her. 

“ Now, ma,” said Thad, taking his mother aside 
as soon as he could, “ you know Dan ’s been a-be- 
having and studying and working till he ’s all worn 
out.” 

“ Well ? ” smiled Mrs. Duncan. 

“May we have pillow fights the nights he’s 
here?” 

“ Yes.” 

Thad gave his mother a hug. “ And have pan- 
cakes for supper to-night ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And do just as we ’re a mind to all day long?” 

“ Yes.” 

Thad sighed for happiness. Then he kissed his 
mother. She liked to be kissed by Thad, and he 
knew it. 

A moment later he was dancing about Dan. 
“We can do just what we please while you’re 
here,” he reported. “ Are n’t you glad you 
came ? ” 


198 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ Yes,” smiled Dan. 

“ You better believe I am ! ” returned Thad. 

“Now,” said Thad the moment supper was 
over, “ I ’m going to say what we ’ll do all the 
time, ’cause you ’re so used to behaving we won’t 
have half fun enough if I don’t. Course, any 
time you do n’t want to do what I say, just speak 
out and we ’ll do something else. Is that all 
right?” 

Dan said that it was. 

“ First thing, then, we ’ll saddle two horses and 
ride over to tell Mose you ’re visiting at our house. 
He ’ll want to know.” 

Dan made no objection, and the horses were 
soon off on a run. 

At Mr. Baxter’s all the family were as much in- 
terested in the visit as Mose himself, who looked 
very wishful. 

“ I guess, mother, it will be Mose’s turn next,” 
said Mr. Baxter after Thad and his guest had 
gone. “ ’T will do Mose as much good as any- 
body to have a playspell.” 

“ Thad and Dan are going fishing to-morrow,” 
observed Mrs. Baxter. 

“ Can’t you fix up a lunch for Mose and send 
him along ? ” 


GREEKS 


199 


Mrs. Baxter reflected. Then she answered, 
“ Yes, I can, and I will.” 

At this Joe and Arthur, who were listening 
with all their ears, looked blank. “Who ’s goin’ 
to look after the baby ? ” they asked in concert. 

“ Joe and Arthur,” answered their father as he 
walked out of the room. 

And then to Joe and Arthur, Mose’s playspell 
seemed a foolish and undesirable tiling. 

“ Nobody ever said I needed a playspell,” 
grumbled Joe. 

“ Nor me neither,” complained Arthur. 

“ Seems to me the baby ’s been looked after 
long enough. He ’s ’most two years old,” con- 
tinued Joe. 

“I do n’t believe I needed lookin’ after when I 
was that big,” said Arthur. “ But there ’s a dif- 
ference in folks, ma says.” And he looked pity- 
ingly at the sleepy baby who was, as usual, too 
obstinate to willingly go to sleep. 

“We’ll have to amuse him, and amuse him, 
and amuse him, or he ’ll howl,” went on Joe, “and 
then ma ’ll say, ‘ Joseph ! ’ ” And he looked dis- 
gustedly at Arthur. 

“ Tell you what ! ” said Arthur. “ Babies have 
it pretty easy, I think. They don’t get scolded 


200 


DAN DRUMMOND 


for falling down and getting their clothes and 
their face all dirt, and everybody has to give up 
to ’em.’* 

Then the two lagged olf to bed. 

Now Dan knew nothing of the delights of a 
pillow fight, and when, at eight o’clock, after slip- 
ping out of the sitting-room and back again a 
time or two, Thad proposed that they should go 
to bed he was somewhat surprised. But, in his 
usual polite way, he rose, bade Mr. and Mrs. Dun- 
can good-night, and followed his friend. Thad’s 
eyes were dancing while he made ready for bed, 
and Dan could not understand it until Thad 
snatched his pillow by the end of the case, and, 
swinging it in the air, brought it down across 
Dan’s shoulders. 

“ We ’re goin’ to have a pillow fight I ” he 
cried. “ Did n’t you ever have one ? ” 

“ No,” replied Dan. 

“Well grab your pillow and come on, then,” 
and he flourished his own pillow again. 

Around the room they raced, scrambling over 
the bed, and dodging behind doors, and Dan was 
laughing as he had never laughed in his life. He 
did not know what he was laughing at either. 
Only there seemed to be something irresistibly 


GREEKS 


201 


funny in pounding and being pounded with a pil- 
low. Once a shadow of a doubt came over him. 
“ Your mother ? ” he asked, “ will she mind? ” 

“ Naw,” said Thad. “ She said we might. I 
asked her.’’ 

At last, out of breath, the two contestants sat 
down on the bed a few minutes. Then Thad 
sprang up and dashed into his closet. 

“ Here,” he said when he came out, and tossed 
Dan an apple. “ Folks that are tired of behaving 
eat apples at night and chuck the cores out the 
window.” 

Dan, with a light heart, ate. He could not re- 
member when ever before he had thrown off all 
care and simplj^ given himself up to enjoyment. 
There would be nothing for him to do in the 
morning but to get up, eat his breakfast, and go 
fishing with Thad. And when the apple cores 
were out of the window, and their heads were 
laid upon the pillows, this new rest from care 
went with Dan to the land of dreams. 

In the morning they were up betimes to dig 
their bait. It took a great deal of bait because 
fish, with the exception of tiny minnows, were 
scarce in the river, and the best fishermen in the 
neighborhood only occasionally succeeded in 


202 


DAN DRUMMOND 


catching a catfish. And while they were yet dig- 
ging along came Mose with his lunch and his fish- 
ing-pole. 

“ Are you goin’ too ? ’’ cried Thad delightedly. 
“ You didn’t say so last night.” 

“ I did n’t know it,” returned Mose, “ but I 
know it now and something better, too.” 

Both Thad and Dan looked at him eagerly. 

“Ma’s going over to-day to ask Mr. and Mrs. 
Hilbert if Dan can’t stay two days and two 
nights at our house ; and ma said I was to ask 
you to come too,” ended Mose looking at Thad. 

“ Well, I ’ll come,” said Thad heartily ; and 
with that he rushed into the house to see his 
mother. 

Returning he reported, “ Ma says to ask you, 
Mose, if you can’t stay here all night to-night.” 

“ My folks said I might if you asked me,” an- 
swered Mose modestly. 

“Guess they knew you’d get asked all right,” 
returned Thad. 

Dan said little. The prospect of two days 
more of simple pleasure was almost more than 
he knew how to face. He drew a long breath. 

“Don’t you hope you’ll get to come to our 
house, Dan ? ” asked Mose. 


GREEKS 


203 


“Yes, indeed, I do,” returned Dan, looking 
very happy. “ My gentlemen used to go visiting 
every summer. I used to wonder what it was 
like, but now I know.” 

Thad and Mose said nothing. For the first 
time it occurred to Thad that there was some- 
thing pathetic in having to wonder what a brief 
bit of pleasure free from care was like. But 
presently he spoke again. 

“Well, bait’s dug,” he announced. “Let’s 
go. 

“ ’T is n’t the best kind of fishing weather,” 
remarked Thad as they stepped briskly off. “ It 
ought to be drizzling.” And he looked up at the 
soft blue April sky. 

But Dan did not seem to mind. Truth to tell, 
he did not like to be out in a drizzle. Fair 
weather pleased him best. 

“ Wonder if we ’ll get a cat,” said Mose. 

“ If we do we ’ll have him for supper,” said 
Thad. 

But no cat were they destined to catch that 
day, though they fished long and persistently. 

It was growing late in the afternoon, and the 
three were fishing in absolute silence, in the vain 
hope of a nibble, when from the other side of the 


204 


DAN DRUMMOND 


leafy screen that hid them from general observa- 
tion, they heard voices. To be sure the leaves 
were not very big yet, but the bushes that lined 
the river bank were so thick that there were a 
great many of them, so that they answered the 
purpose of larger and fewer leaves very well. 

The boys looked at each other question ingly. 
They had never heard those voices before. 

“ They Te onto us, and we Ve got to light out 
and no mistake,” said one. 

The other replied with an oath that made the 
boys shiver. 

“ What’s more, they’re so close onto us that we 
run a good chance of bein’ nabbed,” continued 
the first voice. 

And the second voice replied with another 
oath. “ If we are nabbed with this swag on us, it 
means the pen,” went on the first voice. “ We’ll 
have to plant it somewhere for a while, and here’s 
as good a place as any.” 

The boys noiselessly moved so as to peep 
through the bushes, and were in time to see a 
crafty, sneaking-looking man take out his knife 
and cut into a sapling, thus: -|-. “There, Dick,” 
he said, “ that ’s the mark.” 

Dick nodded and the first speaker began to dig 



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GREEKS 


205 


Straight down near the root of the sapling. 
When the hole was of a sufficient size to suit 
him, he stopped and looked gloomily ahead of 
him at nothing awhile. 

“Well,” said Dick, “if you’re goin’ to plant, 
why do n’t you plant? ” 

The first speaker roused himself. “ I was 
thinkin’,” he said. 

“ Oh, was you ? ” sneered Dick. 

“1 was thinkin’ tliat of all we’ve took in this 
county, there wasn’t nothin’ got back from us 
but them chickens in this very neighborhood. 
And kids got ’em, too, while we was waitin’ till 
we dast to sell ’em. The kids in these parts is 
too smart. Mebbe we ’d better plant somewhere 
else.” 

Thad and Daii and Mose would have looked at 
each other then if they had dared to take their 
eyes off the men. Breathlessly they listened to 
hear what Dick would say. 

“ Bah ! ” said Dick. “ That was a happen so. 
You just said this place was as good as any. We 
hain’t got no time to hunt up another place 
neither. We ’ve got to be a-lightin’ out.” 

“ That ’s so,” said the other with a sigh. “ I 
reckon we ’ll have to risk it, but I ’d hate to lose 


206 


DAN DRUMMOND 


it. We’ve worked hard for it, and run a many 
chances while we was gettin’ it.” 

“And if we’d only got out last week ’stead of 
hangin’ round we could ’a’ took it with us, and 
got a good price for it,” growled Dick. “ But no, 
you was for seein’ if we could n’t git a leetle more. 
That’s you — a leetle more — always a leetle more. 
Now plant the stuff and have done with it, if you 
do n’t want both of us planted behind bars. These 
folks is mad, I tell you, and they ’re after us.” 

The first speaker sighed and began to feel 
in his pockets. Pockets, pockets, everywhere. 
Thad and Dan and Mose stared with round eyes. 
They had not dreamed that one suit of clothes 
could have so many pockets. 

First came out a stout square of canvas, and 
that was spread upon the ground. Then reluc- 
tantly watch after watch made its appearance. 

Eagerly the boys gazed. Now he was getting 
out rings, now pins, now spoons, now chains. 

“ No wonder he was afraid of being nabbed ! ” 
thought Thad. 

The square was tied up at last and placed in 
the bottom of the hole. 

“Well?” growled Dick as his companion 
paused, “ why do n’t you get out the rest of it? ” 


GREEKS 


207 


Was there more? Tlie boys held their breath 
while Dick’s companion sighed again. 

“ Hurts ye, do n’t it ? ” said Dick. “ But out 
with it. Where ’s the chicken money, and the 
proceeds of the wheat and the corn ? ” 

“ Shut up, can’t 3^e ? There might be some- 
body listenin’.” 

Dick laughed an ugly laugh. “ It ’s walls that 
has ears,” he said. “I ain’t afraid of no open.” 

Another square of canvas was drawn forth, 
and spread upon the ground. And then came 
the money — bills and gold, all of it. And the 
man who brought it out sighed again. 

“Tie it up!” commanded Dick. “It’s your 
own fault if we never see it again. You would n’t 
listen to me. We might have sold the team and 
wagon we ’ve been a-doin’ business with in this 
county, too, if ’t had n’t been for j^ou. As ’t is, 
theyTe left for the officers to get hold of, and I’ll 
lose this too, ’fore I ’ll get behind bars, I can get 
plenty more if I ’m free.” 

The money was, by this time, tied up and 
placed in the hole, and then Dick, whose patience 
was quite gone, got up and began to stamp the dirt 
down over it. When all was ready, “ Now come 
on,” he ordered. “We ’ve got to pull out of here.” 


208 


DAN DRUM3IOND 


It was now sundown, and the two slouched off 
in the direction of the railroad track ; but the 
boys stayed hidden till the men were out of 
sight. 

The moment they dared they rose and started 
home, and there was a strange shakiness in their 
young legs that had never beeii there before. 

Arrived at Thad’s home, their story was soon 
told, a posse of men from the farms was gathered, 
and, led by the boys, the treasure was found and 
dug up and taken to Mr. Duncan’s. 

But there was no pillow fight in Thad’s room 
that night. 

The next day the plunder was taken to town, 
and placed in the hands of the county treasurer. 
Its finding was advertised in the county papers 
and claimants were invited to come and prove 
property. Those who had lost grain were bidden 
to file bills which would be paid as far as possible 
out of the store of recovered money. 

The ex-Romans were as much interested as the 
older ones. 

“ Tell you what ! ” said Arthur Baxter. “They 
was up nights and sneaked round and stole things 
and now they ain’t got any of it either.” 

“ Served ’em right,” declared Joe. 


GREEKS 


209 


“ Honesty ’s the best politics, ma says,” observed 
little Bert Waring. 

The next day after the find, Mrs. Halfhill came 
unexpectedly, and so Dan was left to visit alone 
at Mr. Baxter’s. 

“ I do n’t know of no way I like to spend money 
better,” said the old lady, “than buyin’ a railroad 
ticket to come here. And I was gettin’ lonesome, 
and so I come. My renters is good and I can 
leave ’em any time, and everything goes just as 
if I was to home.” 

She was filled with horror when she heard of 
the robbers. “ Lawful sakes ! ” she .exclaimed. 
“What if them desperate desperadoes had seen 
them boys lookin’ at ’em through the bushes! 
Them kind of men is worse than tramps, and I ’w 
afraid of even tramps. Of course I do n’t want to 
make no coward out of Thad, and seein’ the way 
it has turned out, I’m glad he looked; but I do 
hope he won’t go fishin’ and lookin’ through 
bushes no more.” 

Mrs. Duncan, who had not thought before that 
harm might possibly have befallen Thad, turned 
pale. 

“I ’ll try not to have him go, mother,” she said. 

“ And them ’s the men that had the Roman 
14 


210 


DAN DRUMMOND 


eagle rooster,” said Mrs. Halfhill, in a contempla- 
tive tone, her mind at rest about Thad. “ There ’s 
some men that would as soon take one thing as 
another, I do believe.” 

Now at this same time it came into the minds 
of Ml the mothers in the neighborhood that spy- 
ing upon thieves was not the safest occupation 
that could be found for boys. And the ex- 
Romans, in particular, were forbidden ever to in- 
dulge in such a pastime. 

“ Tell you what ! ” said Arthur, the before time 
valiant Roman, “ it ’s time we got to be Greeks.” 

The others looked at him, plainly showing that 
they did not understand. 

“Don’t you know Greeks is what Dan and 
Thad and Mose are learning now?” he asked 
impatiently. 

“I guess Will’s a-learning ’em, too,” said little 
Bob Motley in an injured tone. 

“And so’s Tom,” put in Phil and Bert Waring 
in a breath. 

“ And Joe is too,” asserted Joe Whitman’s small 
brother stoutly. 

Arthur bore his numerous corrections very 
meekly. “ Course they are,” he said. “ I did n’t 
say ’em over; that’s all.” 


GREEKS 


2U 

There was a pause and then Phil’s curiosity got 
the better of his irritation. “ What do we want 
to get to be Greeks for ? ” he asked. 

“ Why, ’cause they could run,” answered 
Arthur importantly. “ If we should find some 
thieves it would come mighty handy to run like 
the Greeks.” 

“Why, they didn’t run away from folks, did 
they ? ” asked J oe Baxter. “ I thought ’t was races 
they run.” 

“Yes, sir, it was,” declared Phil Waring. “Mr. 
Hilbert said St. Paul was thinking about them 
very races when he wrote what’s in the Bible 
about throwing away your besetting sin and run- 
ning your best.” 

“Well,” said Arthur, who was growing tired 
of so many interruptions, “are we going to be 
Greeks or ain’t we ? ” 

“ How are we goin’ to be ’em ? ” asked Bert 
Waring. 

“ Well,” replied Arthur, pompously, “it’s easier 
than Romans. You do n’t have to have nothing. 
All we ’ve got to do is to make two bases and 
then run from one to the other. I expect every 
day we can get there quicker, and then we ’ll be 
all right, even if the thieves do come. Besides 


212 


DAN DRUMMOND 


marbles and tops and hopping is getting old,” he 
added artfully. 

“ There ain’t much of a level round here,” 
objected Phil Waring. “ 1 do n’t believe them 
Greeks run up hill and down.” 

“ There ’s level enough,” persisted Arthur. 
“ There ’s nearly half a mile.” 

“Well, we can try it,” said Joe Baxter doubt- 
fully. “ Seems to me, though, if we do n’t have 
on nothing extra, we won’t know we ’re Greeks, 
and no one else neither. We ’ll just be boys 
a-running.” 

“No, s^>,” said Arthur, “we won’t. If we say 
we ’re Greeks, we are. I guess I ain’t a-going to 
be no common boy a-running. I ’m going to be a 
Greek. And mebbe I ’ll run faster than any of 
you,” he ended. 

This prophecy made ardent Greeks of all the 
common boys, each one in his own mind deter- 
mined to let Arthur Baxter see who would run 
fastest. And so through the short spring vaca- 
tion and on into term time, day after day bare 
feet kicked up the dust over legs bare to the knee 
and faces grew as red as excessive exercise could 
make them. 

They had no judges, and they started them- 


GREEKS 


213 


selves in this manner ; ranging themselves abreast 
they counted one^ two^ three, together, and then 
yelled Go / in concert as they started. For they 
were not particular as to the manner of the 
Greeks. 

Now there was this difference between the 
Greeks and Romans ; all the neighborhood knew 
about the Romans, but nobody, in the neighbor- 
hood or out of it, knew about the Greeks. 

Therefore, one day, it was a great astonishment 
to a German farmer to meet these Greeks under 
full headway. He lived so many miles further 
north that the Greeks did not know him nor did 
he know the Greeks. 

“ Here ! here ! ” he called. 

But on into his face swept the Greeks so that 
he was constrained to turn out hastily to one side 
of the road while the racers, heedless of him, went 
by. For it looked as if Arthur would win. 

“Veil! veil!” said the German, “I not see 
some boys like that before already.” And, being 
in no hurry, he waited to see what would happen. 
Presently the Greeks, considerably out of breath, 
came back at a slow walk, and he said as they ap- 
proached him, “Vat vas de matter, den? Vas 
somepody’s house on fire ? ” 


214 


DAN DlimiMOND 


The Greeks touched their hats as they laugh- 
ingly answered, “ No, sir.” 

“Veil! veil!” said the farmer as he drove on. 
“I not understand it. Dey run and stop for 
noting, and ven dey come back dey have some 
manners too. Dis is a queer world, yes.” 

A few minutes later he met Mr. Duncan on a 
horse and he stopped him to ask about the Greeks. 

“Good day, sir,” he began. “ I did meet some 
boys back dere. Dey was little fellows. And 
dey run so hard in my face dat I get out of de 
road. I never see such a boys. Den ven dey get 
done running, dey lift off der hats like old men. 
Might dey be your boys ? ” 

“ No,” said Mr. Duncan smiling. “ They be- 
long to my neighbors. They were probably at 
play.” 

“ It is a poor play, vat you call it. If I have 
my colts we all get killed mebbe. Dey vould 
Inif not the chance to come lifting off the hat 
back. My colts, dey never see such a boys. 
And I dink dey not like to see ’em.” 

Then the indignant German drove on. But 
Mr. Duncan set on foot such an inquiry that the 
Greeks and their races were shortly brought to 
light. 


GREEKS 


215 


“Beats all!” said Mose. “We can’t stir but 
the little fellows imitate us.” 

“ Yes,” rejoined Dan, “ what we learn they try 
to learn, and they put their own construction on 
it.” 

“With a vengeance!” said Thad. “Would 
those old Greeks recognize their races, do you 
think?” And he laughed. 

“Well,” complained Arthur to Mose that even- 
ing, “ we can’t watch thieves, ’cause that ’s danger- 
ous, and we can’t be Greeks or people’s colts will 
run off and kill folks. We can’t be nothing, 
seems to me.” Then he went to bed. 

It appeared worse to Arthur to be forbidden to 
be a Greek racer than it did to the others, be- 
cause Greek racing had been his own scheme. 
So he diligently set himself to think up something 
else. And, though at night he had thought in 
despair that he and his friends could not hope to 
be anything, by morning he had decided to play 
the Pass of Thermopylae. The older boys had 
recited about that only the day before. They 
would not need to go into the road to do that, 
and it would be fighting, too. Their old Roman 
shields and swords and helmets would do for 
Greeks just as well, and Arthur had no difficulty 


216 


DAN DRUMMOND 


in persuading the others to fall in with his plan. 

All went well for a few days. The Pass was 
defended so many times, and all out of school 
hours, too, that the old saying, “ History ever 
repeats itself,” was illustrated many times. 

Now there was on the Whitman place, the 
scene of Thermopylae, an old ram. He had been 
there a good while, and nobody had paid any at- 
tention to him. It is probable that he would 
have paid no attention to the defenders of the 
famous pass if he had not seen it defended so 
often that his own spirit was roused. And so it 
was that, having no sword nor shield nor helmet, 
he came at the defenders head down, and took 
the pass himself ! 

“ I ain’t goin’ to be a Greek no more,” whim- 
pered Phil Waring, as he limped off. “I don’t 
want to hear of no Greeks. If they did n’t have 
no better luck than we do a-bein’ ’em, I pity ’em.” 

The rest said little, but it was plain they were 
of the same opinion, as were the mothers when 
they came to put plasters on bruises, and sew up 
the rents in clothing. 


CHAPTER XX 


NEW SCHEMES 

When Dan’s brief visit at Mr. Baxter’s had 
ended, Mrs. Whitman had invited him, and be- 
fore the spring term began he had been the 
round of the neighborhood and was his old ener- 
getic self once more. 

He had decided to have another garden, but he 
would profit by the mistakes of the last year. 
He would choose his seeds from those recom- 
mended to truck gardeners because they were 
earlier, and, as a rule, yielded more largely. He 
would not raise cucumbers for the dump, either. 
Nor would he give so much as an inch to summer 
turnips. 

“ Perliaps some summer turnips may be good,” 
he said to Thad, to whom he was telling over his 
plans, “but I shall not risk them.” 

“Well, I should say not,” returned Thad. 
“ You might have to ask Mose and me to help you 
pull them out again.” 


217 


218 


DAN DRUMMOND 


Dan laughed. “ You ’d do it, if I asked you,” 
he said with an affectionate look. 

“ Of course we would,” said Thad. “ There 
is n’t much you could ask of Mose and me that we 
would refuse.” And he threw an arm over Dan’s 
shoulder. 

“ I ’ve got another scheme, too,” said Dan rather 
shamefacedly. 

Thad looked at him in surprise, for Dan was all 
but blushing. “ What is it ? ” he asked. 

“ Well you know I ’ve got to earn all I can to 
help Uncle James. He would give it to me, but 
I can’t take it. A Drummond could n’t, you 
know.” 

“Of course not,” said Thad heartily. 

“Well,” said Dan, “there’s the fair, where all 
sorts of premiums are offered. I thought I ’d try 
for some.” 

“ To be sure ! ” cried Thad, as visions of Agri- 
cultural Hall at the county fair rose before him. 
“ Pumpkins, squash, corn, potatoes, onions, beets,” 
he enumerated in a pleased tone. “ Why, that ’ll 
be great ! ” 

“ Well, but you have n’t named everything,” said 
Dan with a painful flush. 

“ You name awhile then,” was the answer. 


NEW SCHEMES 


219 


“ I thought,” said Dan, “ I ’d make all sorts of 
jelly and take it.” 

“ Jelly ! ” exclaimed Thad staring. 

“ Yes,” said Dan shrinkingly, for he valued 
Thad’s opinion now quite as highly as Thad 
valued his. 

“ Hum ! ” said Thad thoughtfully. “ I do n’t 
know that I ever heard of a boy making jelly.” 

“ But, do n’t you see, Thad, it ’s all right, be- 
cause it ’s honest, and it ’s so easy to make, and the 
premium is fifty cents a kind, and I know how to 
make seven kinds, because I helped Aunt Addle 
last summer.” 

“ Gracious ! ” exclaimed Thad. “ Seven times 
fifty is three dollars and fifty cents I You can’t 
afford to let that chance slip.” 

“ That ’s what I thought,” said Dan more con- 
fidently. “ Maybe it is n’t quite the thing for a 
boy to make jelly for the fair, but I know it is n’t 
the thing for a Drummond to let any one give him 
what he can honestly earn.” 

“ Right you are ! ” said Thad. “And I ’m going 
to help with that jell. I ’ve seen ma make it more 
than once. It’s just cooking up juice and sugar, 
anyway.” 

Dan smiled. He really did know how to make 


220 


DAN DRUMMOND 


jelly, for he was just the careful, painstaking boy 
to understand it. And Mrs. Hilbert had minutely 
instructed him. But he said nothing. It was not 
time to make jelly, yet. 

Now Thad seemed to grow more and more 
energetic every day, and he took up the plan of 
making jelly with zeal. 

“Ma,” he asked one evening, “isn’t it about as 
easy to make one kind of jell as another ? ” 

“Well, not quite,” returned Mrs. Duncan 
judiciously. 

“But if a person could make seven kinds good, 
could n’t he make fourteen just as well ? ’ 

“ Yes, I suppose so.” 

“ I knew it,” said Thad to himself. “ Dan can 
just as well make seven dollars on his jell as three 
fifty. It ’ll take a lot of money for college, any- 
way. Wish I knew where Dan found out about 
llie fair.” 

The next time he saw Dan he asked him. 

“ Why,” replied Dan, “ in the little premium 
book.” 

“ Let ’s see it,” said Thad. 

Dan put his hand in his coat pocket and drew 
the tiny pamphlet forth. 

Rapidly Thad turned the leaves until he came 


NEW SCHEMES 


221 


to jellies. “ Yes, sir,” said he. “ There ’s four- 
teen different kinds. I thought there ’d be that 
many.” 

Dan looked surprised. He did not understand 
what Thad was talking about. 

“ See here,” said Thad, “ if you Te going to 
make jell, make it for all it’s worth. What’s the 
use of stopping with seven kinds when there’s 
fourteen?” 

“ Oh ! ” said Dan and he laughed. “ Truth is, I 
have n’t but seven different kinds of fruit to make 
it with.” 

“Is that all? ’’said Thad. “ Well, you’ll have 
fourteen this summer or I’ll know why. It 
doesn’t take much for one glass of jell, does it?” 

“ No,” smiled Dan. 

“I thought it didn’t,” said Thad in a satisfied 
tone. Then he laughed. “ Wonder what I ’ll 
get interested in next?” he said. “Two years 
ago, would n’t I have turned up my nose at jell 
making ? ” 

“ Maybe some of the other boys will yet,” said 
Dan, who was still slightly sensitive on the sub- 
ject. 

“Well,” began Thad, “they won’t.” He 
stopped a moment. “ If they do, let ’em,” he 


222 


DAN DBUMBIOND 


ended. “ I guess we can stand it. There won’t 
any of our crowd do it, I know.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Dan. For all at once he knew 
Thad was thinking of the Wennott boys, who, 
each year, attended the fair in goodly numbers. 
“ I had n’t thought of them.” 

“ Have to think of everybody nowadays,” an- 
swered Thad briefly. He had never forgotten the 
disdainful Wennott boys that night at Kippville. 

Nothing more was said, but Dan increased his 
resolution and gave his mind to jelly as each kind 
of fruit came along in its season, while Thad and 
Muse kept u}) an interested watch and did their 
full share in providing the fruits Dan needed. 

“ Well,” said Thad one day as he held up a 
tumbler of jelly to the light and looked at its 
translucent beauty, “ I ’ve seen women look and 
look at jell, and just wondered at ’em. But tell 
you what, it’s pretty! If this does n’t take the 
premium, it ought to, anyway. I ’m aching to see 
Dan get that seven dollars.” 

“ You ’ve got a long time to ache, then,” said 
Mose, “ for the fair is n’t till the middle of Septem- 
ber, and this is only first of August.” 

“That’s so,” sighed impatient Thad. “Seems 
as if everything I want I have to wait for.” 


NEW SCHEMES 


223 


“ Of course/’ said practical Mose, “ if you will 
keep wanting what ’s a long way ahead. We ’d 
better want to get at that Latin lesson now,” he 
added. 

“Say,” said Thad, “how does it seem to you 
about those old Romans liking to eat so well? 
Take old Vitellius. It ’s lucky the little fellows 
happened to miss Ju7n! Wouldn’t they like to 
play Vitellius, though ! ” 

With that little Joe Baxter popped his head 
in at the door of the minister’s kitchen. He 
looked as if an idea had struck him, too, whereat 
Thad made pretense to groan, while the other two 
laughed. 

A half hour Joe hung around, and then he • 
sidled up to Mose. “ Say,” said he, “ where is it 
in the books about him ? — Vi — ^you know who.” 

So Mose showed him and for a long time little 
Joe pored over the, to him, wonderful account. 
At last he thought he had absorbed enough for 
present purposes, and away he went, very impor- 
tant, to find his beforetime Roman band. 

“ Tell you what,” he began when he had them 
assembled, “it’s time we quit fightin’ and went 
to eatin’. Them old Romans, they eat awful.” 

“ How d ’you know?” demanded Phil jealously. 


224 


DAN DRUMMOND 


So far it had not fallen to Phil’s lot to devise 
anything new to play, and he felt a little bitter. 

“I know,” said Joe still more importantly, 
“ ’cause I heard Mose and Dan and Thad talkin’ 
about it, and then Mose showed me the place in 
the book where it tells about it.” 

“ What did they eat ? ” demanded Phil. 

“ Oh, lots of things,” returned Joe airily. 
“ They had fish and oysters and crabs and 
snails — ” 

“Snails!” interrupted Phil scornfully. “And 
crabs I I s’pose they ’re the crawfish our chickens 
catch in the slough.” 

“ They ain’t either,” retorted Joe. “ And I 
guess if the old Romans eat snails, they knew 
what they were about.” 

The other boys made haste to give it as their 
opinion that the old Romans were entirely com- 
petent to decide as to their own diet, and Joe’s 
enumeration went on. 

“ And they eat peacocks — ” 

“ Oh I ” interrupted Annie Baxter in horror- 
stricken tones. She had seen peacocks in Wen- 
nott, and she thought them very beautiful. 

“ Yes, sir, they did,” persisted Joe. “ Book 
says so. And they eat storks and cranes and 


NEW SCHE3IES 


225 


pigs. And I do n’t know what else they eat, for I 
can’t remember it. But I know they eat an aw- 
ful lot of everything. Yes, sir, they just stuffed.” 

“ Ma do n’t like to see folks stuff,” remarked 
Annie. 

“ W ell,” said Arthur, “ course she do n’t. Ma, 
she ’s real American, and these was Romans.” 

“ That ’s what they was, and we’ ve been ’em 
a-fightin’, and now let ’s be ’em a-eatin’.” 

“Ma won’t let you,” said Annie. “She says 
stuffing makes folks sick.” 

“Oh, she won’t care,” said Arthur. “We can’t 
get hold of enough to make us sick. We ’ll have 
to play stuff as well as play Roman.” 

“Well,” said Annie, “it isn’t fighting. Am I 
to be in it ? ” 

The boys consulted. “Yes,” they answered 
finally. “ You may be in it, if you’ll be the slave 
an^ wait on us while we eat.” 

At this Annie demurred. Then it occurred to 

her to ask what they were going to eat. 

15 


CHAPTER XXI 


A TRICLINIUM 

It takes a long time to answer some questions, 
and Annie’s seemed to be of this sort. The boys 
did not know what they were to eat. And, in the 
meantime, Joe took it upon himself to instruct 
his hearers as to the Roman manner of eating. 

“ The old Romans, they lay down to eat,” he 
began. 

“ Lay down to eat ! ” repeated Phil, contemp- 
tuously. 

“Yes, sir, they did,” insisted Joe. “I don’t 
mean that they lay clear down flat, but they lay 
on one side and rested their head on their elbow. 
I saw the picture over to Mr. Hilbert’s.” 

“ They must have looked nice,” said Phil. “ My 
mother makes me sit up pretty straight at the ta- 
ble, I tell you ! ” 

“Well, what are we going to lie on?” asked 
Arthur impatiently. 

“Why, I do n’t know,” answered Joe. 

“I do,” said Bob Motley. “I saw a picture 
226 


A TRICLINIUM 


227 


like that, too, in Will’s book, and, I say, our 
mothers’ wash benches ’ll do.” 

“ They will that,” chimed in Bert Waring, not 
that he knew, but he always agreed with Bob. 

“Yes,” admitted Joe, “they will. I s’pose I’d 
have thought of ’em myself after a while,” he 
added. 

Now the picture that the boys had seen was 
that of the dining- table of the plebs or common 
people. The table was quadrangular, and the 
couches were placed along three sides, leaving 
the fourth clear for the convenience of the wait- 
ers. However, it was all one to them, and they 
mixed plebs and patricians finely in their efforts 
to imitate the splendors of the ancient Romans. 
They were not long in putting some boards on 
boxes to form a table in the Baxter yard, and 
while the rest worked Joe went to beg the use 
of the washhouse stove from his mother. 

“ What are you going to do now ? ” asked Mrs. 
Baxter. 

“Well, you see,” replied Joe, who was strictly 
honest, “ the old Romans was awful eaters ; they 
just stuffed^, and we thought we ’d be ’em.” 

“Very well, my son,” replied Mrs. Baxter, with 
a twinkle in her eye. 


228 


DAN DBUM3I0ND 


“ May we have the wash bench? ” asked Joe. 

“ Oh, certainly,” was the answer. 

“ And we ’d like some salt and pepper and but- 
ter,” went on Joe with his most insinuating man- 
ner. 

“ You shall have them.” 

“ Will you let us use the washhouse stove ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“We’re going to cook a whole kettle of green 
corn,” confided Joe. 

“ Are you? ” 

“ Yes, and if you ’d give us some vinegar, we ’d 
have cucumbers.” 

“I will give you the vinegar, but you can’t 
have the cucumbers.” 

Joe looked cast down. 

“ How would onions and ripe tomatoes do in- 
stead?” asked his mother. 

“ All right. I like ’em better, anyway.” 

“ I will also give you a bag of crackers.” 

“O ma!” ejaculated Joe, fervently. 

Mrs. Baxter smiled. “ And a pan of ginger 
cookies,” she added. 

“ My, but you ’re good ! ” said Joe ; and he 
looked eagerly at her to hear what she would say 
next. 


A TRICLINIUM 


229 


“You may go pick yourselves some raspber- 
ries,” said Mrs. Baxter, “and I will give you some 
sugar to put over them.” 

Joe could hardly believe his ears. With a 
hearty “ Thank you ! ” he darted from the house 
to communicate his good news. 

“ I told you ma would n’t care if we stuffed,” 
commented Arthur. “She knows Romans have 
to stuff when they ’re eating.” 

Nobody paid much attention to him, however, 
and four of the boys at once set out to bring tlie 
other two wash benches that were to masquerade 
as Roman couches. And when the Waring boys 
returned, very warm and tired, tugging their 
mother’s wash bench, they brought with them 
some early ripe potatoes to bake. 

“ My, but we ’re getting there ! ” sighed Arthur. 
“ Our folks do n’t care what we be, so it ain’t 
Greeks, and we keep out of the road.” 

“Well, while Bob Motley and Ken Whitman 
are coming with the other bench, I move we make 
the fire,” said Phil Waring. And the motion was 
so promptly acted upon as to put Phil in a good 
humor for a while. 

The fire mp-de, and a big kettle of water put 
on, the boys skurried off to the garden to get 


230 


DAN DRUMMOND 


their sweet com. Back they came again in a 
great hurry, and were just in time to see Bob and 
Ken coming into the yard with the bench be- 
tween them, while close under his left arm Bob 
hugged his brother’s book. 

“ I thought we did n’t know enough of how the 
Romans eat, and we ’d go by the book,” said Bob. 

At this Joe looked rather crestfallen. But he 
soon recovered. What if Bob had brought the 
book ? He thought of the plan first, and started 
it; and so, all together, the Romans husked and 
silked the corn and put it in the kettle, washed 
the potatoes and put them in the oven, and 
brought up fuel to keep up a roaring fire. 

“ Now,” said Bob, consulting the book, “ we ’d 
ought to put strings of posies on our heads.” 

“ Huh ! ” said Phil. 

“ Book says so,” insisted Bob. 

“ Let ’s see,*’ said Phil. And he looked over 
Bob’s shoulder. “Don’t either,” he disputed. 
“ It says garlands.” 

“Well, garlands are strings of posies. Will 
said so, for I asked him.” 

“ Garlands are stoves, too,” said Phil. “ I ’ve 
seen Garland stoves advertised in the Wennott 
Gazette'' 


A TRICLINIUM 


231 


“ Oh, well,” put in Arthur, whose voice was 
generally for peace, “ let ’em go. We don’t want 
’em, anyway. We ain’t got peacocks nor snails 
nor crabs to eat and we can get along without the 
garlands.” 

“All right,” agreed Bob amiably. “You 
needn’t have ’em if you don’t want ’em. The 
Romans,” he continued, “ had somebody in to 
speak pieces and play music to ’em while they 
was eatin’.” 

The boys reflected. They all wanted to eat, 
and none of them wanted to speak or play. 

“Tell you what,” cried Arthur, “let’s get 
Susie to speak and Willie to play on the mouth 
organ. Annie’s goin’ to be the slave and wait 
on us and then all we’ll have to do will be to 
eat.” 

This suggestion meeting with strong approval 
it was instantly adopted. 

“Now,” said Joe, “some of us have got to pick 
the berries, and some of us have got to watch the 
fire, and some have got to set the table. I move 
we let Susie and Annie set the table, for their 
hands are clean and they won’t snoop.” 

Susie and Annie were quite willing, and one- 
half the Romans shortly set off for the prickly 


232 


DAN DRUM BIO ND 


berry patch while the other half devoted them- 
selves to keeping up the fire. 

“My, but it’s fun to be things ! ” said Arthur, 
as he shoved another stick into the already 
crowded stove. 

“ If it ain’t Greeks,” said Phil. 

“ Well,” replied Arthur, “if it had n’t been for 
that man and his colts and the old ram we ’d ’a’ 
had a pretty good time bein’ Greeks, I think.” 

Just then the kettle boiled over. 

“ Whoopee ! ” cried Arthur shaking his hands 
and dancing about. “ What are we going to do 
now? ” 

Phil made no answer, but, using all his strength, 
he managed to jerk the kettle to the back part 
of the stove. 

“ My, but you ’re smart ! ” said Arthur. “ I ’d 
never ’a’ thought of that.” 

“I could do lots of things if Joe’d ever give 
me a chance,” said Phil. “ I ’m as big as he is, 
and I ’m as old as he is, I guess.” 

“ Well, you’ve done something now,” said Ar- 
thur pacifically. “ Where ’d our corn been, if it 
hadn’t been for you? I wonder if it ain’t done.” 

“Don’ know,” answered Phil. “ Mebbe ’tis. 
Let ’s look at the potatoes.” 


A TRICLINIUM 


233 


He opened the oven door. “ They ’re scorch- 
ing, tliat ’s what they are ! ” he cried. “ This oven ’s 
too hot. Door’s got to be left open. That’s the 
way ma does, and I believe they ’re done.” 

He put two finger tips in his mouth and, step- 
ping to the door, whistled shrilly two or three 
times. Then he turned to Ken Whitman. 

“ Run and tell Susie and Annie and Willie that 
it’s time they was getting into the tryclinnyyum.” 
He looked importantly at Arthur, “That’s what 
the Romans called their dining-room,” he said. 
“ I guess I know something, too. My brother 
Tom told me that, and I guess he knows as much 
as Dan and Mose and Thad.” 

“That’s an awful big word,” remarked Arthur 
admiringly. 

“ That ’s what it is,” said Phil. “ ’T isn’t hard, 
though. It’s just stringing and cZmwy, and 
yum together. Easy enough when you know 
how.” 

Arthur tried it. “ ’T is easy, ain’t it ? ” he 
said. 

Willie now made his appearance. “ Do I have 
to play a tune, or do I just play ? ” he asked look- 
ing anxiously at Phil. “ ’Cause I do n’t know any 
tunes,” he added. 


234 


DAN DRUMMOND 


Now Willie’s anxious look at him had greatly 
flattered Phil, who found it extremely sweet to be 
looked up to. He therefore answered graciously, 
“ Oh, just play. Those old Romans didn’t have 
no tunes — or mebbe they didn’t. “Anyway they 
did n’t know ‘ Hail Columbia.’ And ’most any- 
body ought to know that and ‘ Yankee Doodle.’ ” 

The three Romans now came rushing back 
from the berry patch, and things began to fly in a 
lively manner. 

“Where ’s the tomatoes?” called one. 

“ In the patch,” answered Susie. 

“ Then we ’ve got to pick ’em and clean ’em 
and slice ’em,” said Joe in an aggrieved tone. 
“We won’t skin ’em, anyway.” 

“ Seems to me,” put in Phil, “ that folks that 
could eat snails need n’t stop at tomato skins.” 

“That’s so,” said Joe, “and we ’ll eat ’em.” 
Away he ran for the tomatoes. 

“I’m goin’ for the onions,” announced Phil. 
“ The rest of you can pick over the berries and 
wash ’em. And, Susie, you can go in and get the 
sugar and the vinegar and whatever dishes we ’d 
ought to have and hain’t got.” 

At length all was ready, and the Romans took 
their places, two boys to a wash bench. To be 


A TBICLINimi 


235 


sure the bench was rather short so that the first 
boy’s feet stuck out at the side of it while the 
feet of the second boy projected beyond it at the 
end. But they did not mind. They reclined 
themselves ; Annie began to wait on them and 
Susie spoke her piece. 

The first thing served was the corn. It was hot, 
the butter was sweet and fresh, the salt and pep- 
per all that they should be, but after one mouth- 
ful the Romans decided that it would be pretty 
hard work to be gluttonous with that corn. It 
was tough, for it was not done, and it was scorched, 
and they had neglected to put the pinch of sugar 
into the water they had boiled it in. They ate 
sparingly,_therefore, and said nothing till Susie’s 
piece was ended, when Annie at once removed the 
corn. 

Then Willie began. All unmoved, he blew 
steadily without regard to time or rhythm on his 
mouth organ, and every sound he made was in- 
dependent of every other sound. Susie now as- 
sisted Annie, and the Romans, who by this time 
were very hungry, began to make way with the 
viands rapidly. 

“Things that’s raw tastes the best,” said Joe, 
as he devoured his sliced tomatoes and onions and 


236 


DAN DRUMMOND 


ate liberally of his berries. “ These potatoes are 
sogged.” 

“ And I guess they ’d ’a’ been sogged if you ’d 
V cooked ’em, too,” retorted Phil. 

“ I did n’t say they would n’t,” said Joe with his 
mouth full. “ These crackers and cookies are 
good too,” he went on. “But I say it ’s awful 
leaning on one elbow while you eat. I can hardly 
eat for thinking how my elbow hurts.” 

And now who should happen along but Dan 
and Thad and Mose ? 

“ Having a lot of fun, are you ? ” asked Thad 
good-naturedly. 

“ Hum ! ” said Joe reflectively. He was not an 
attractive-looking object, for never before had he 
eaten using only one hand and receiving no aid 
from the other. His face shone with melted but- 
ter from his corn, and berry juice was on his chin, 
for, as his left elbow became more and more pain- 
ful, he found it more and more difficult to suc- 
cessfully put his spoon in his mouth without spill- 
ing any of its contents. And, indeed, all the 
Romans were more or less of a spectacle. 

“The baby can eat better than Joe and Ar- 
thur,” remarked Annie, the slave. 

“ Just you put him on his elbow on a hard old 


A TRICLINIUM 


237 


wash bench,” said Joe, at once on the defen- 
sive. 

“ And in a try-clinny-yum^' put in Arthur. 

“ Yes, sir,” continued Joe, “and you’d see.” 

Everything eatable had now disappeared, noth- 
ing remaining on the table but the sogged pota- 
toes. Sadly each Roman raised himself to a sit- 
ting posture. 

“ I feel all wapper -jawed and lopsided,” said 
Bert Waring. 

“ All the Romans did not recline at their 
meals,” observed Dan. 

“ I ’d pity ’em if they did,” said Phil. “ I ’m 
glad I did n’t get up the eating Romans,” he 
added. “ They ’re worse ’n the Greeks and no fun 
in ’em neither.” 

“That’s so,” agreed Bob Motley. “ The fight- 
ing Romans were all right, though.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE FAIR 

Very fast the weeks went by now until the 
fourteen kinds of jelly were all made and the time 
of the fair was at hand. Dan’s garden had done 
better than it had the year before, and there were 
fine specimens of various things of his own rais- 
ing to go to Agricultural Hall. 

These Dan looked at with pride, but, in spite 
of all his good common sense, he did hate to take 
his jelly. 

“ Think of that seven dollars I ” encouraged 
Thad. 

Dan did think of it and went ahead. 

“ 3x7 ” was the mark on every cup, neatly put 
on in the bluest of ink. 

Each school gave its pupils a vacation of a day 
to attend the fair, but Dan and Thad and Mose 
were permitted by home authority to attend con- 
stantly. 

I could n’t have studied anyway,” said Thad. 

“ Nor I either,” said Mose. 

238 


THE FAIR 


239 


So every morning the boys went to Wennott 
and on south of the town to the fair ground on 
horseback. Dan had now come to be a fine horse- 
man, and all three of the boys sat their saddles 
very well indeed, each riding as if he were a 
part of his horse. Dan was still the most slender 
of the three, but for all that his muscle was tough 
and his endurance something remarkable for his 
physique. 

“I tell you this is great!” exclaimed Thad 
when, their horses put up, they were wandering 
about. “ Pretty soon the crowd will be coming. 
I like a crowd, do n’t you ? Makes me feel good.” 

“No,” replied Dan with a smile, “I don’t. It 
seemed to me all crowd in Chicago, and that ’s one 
reason I like to live in the country.” 

They were now near the chickens and Mose 
looked at them with a critical eye. “ I wish the 
little fellows had brought the Roman eagle 
rooster,” he said. “Old Gyp’s ahead of any- 
thing here.” 

“ He is that I ” said Thad. 

Each day the crowd grew larger, but nothing 
out of the common happened until the third day. 
The usual number of people bought worthless 
silk handkerchiefs and plush-covered albums at a 


240 


DAN DRUMMOND 


good price, and the long-haired quack medicine 
venders were surrounded as usual, but nothing 
uncommon happened until that third day. 

There was to be a big race. The seats of the 
amphitheatre were filled. People on foot crowded 
close to the rope that fenced the track from the 
grounds on the north and east. And beside the 
gate that hung between two posts of the rope 
fence midway on the north, stood our three boys. 

The Wennott band was .playing. Here and 
there were scattered vehicles of all descriptions, 
some filled with sight seers, others having but one 
or two occupants, others still with only a driver. 
Quite at the south end of the little circular green 
park enclosed by the track was a small wagonette 
drawn by two high-spirited bays. It was a tiny 
affair with only one narrow seat and almost no 
box at all. The driver stood near. But sud- 
denly the horses became frightened and took to 
the track, and then it was seen that the wagonette 
held two little girls, one about four and the other 
five years old. At the height of their speed the 
horses swept north, but faster than they went the 
intelligence that a team was running away with 
two children. 

On the west there was no track fence but only 


THE FAIR 


241 


the fence of the fairground some little distance 
away. This space, too, all unprotected as it was 
from the track, was filled with people — women 
with little children and small boys who walked 
about by themselves independently. But there 
were very few men among them. All eyes were 
turned that way, and simultaneously the thought 
entered every brain, “ The horses will bolt the 
track right there ! ” 

Then arose shouts of warning from the strong 
lungs of men, and screams from women more for- 
tunately placed. And frantically the endangered 
women, seeing their peril, began to gather their 
charges together that they might escape. 

In the midst of the hubbub, Dan, very pale, 
threw oif his coat and hat, stepped through the 
gate and stood at the edge of the track. 

“ Back ! back ! ” yelled the crowd. “ Are you 
mad?” 

But Dan stood there. He had no intention of 
jumping at the bridles of the coming runaway 
team. He knew he had not the strength for 
that. But he knew that he did have muscle, and 
well trained muscle, that he could trust. 

They have rounded the curve. Their fright in- 
creased by the shouts and screams, they are 
16 


242 


DAN DRUMMOND 


coming with the speed of tlie wind. They are 
abreast of Dan. See ! he has sprung out upon tlie 
track. With firm hands he lays hold of the back 
rail of the wagonette. He swings himself up. 
He is in, and scrambling forward over the seat. 
He has the reins, and just as they are about to 
leave the track the horses feel the firm, steady 
pull that keeps them on in it. The horses are 
still running like mad, but Dan braces his feet 
against the dashboard, winds the lines around 
his hands and speaks a word to the terrified 
children, bidding them cling fast to the rail of the 
seat. 

They are coming round to the northwest side 
of the track again, but the dangerous place is 
empty now. In the deep silence how loud the 
hoof-beats of the runaway team sound ! On they 
go, but not so madly as before, on and out of 
sight, and a great sigh of relief goes up from the 
anxious crowd. 

“ He ^11 do now ! ’’ exclaims one old man. 
“Them horses is a’most out of breath. They 
won’t come round more ’n once more, if they do 
that.” 

“ He ’s got ’em slowed to a walk,” comes down 
word from the south side of the track. 


THE FAIR 


243 


A moment more and one of the independent 
small boys arriving on a swift trot attracts favor- 
able attention to himself by proclaiming, “ He 
said ‘ Whoa!’ and they just stopped. I ’m a-goin’ 
to do it, too, when I ’m as big as he is.” 

Then goes up a mighty shout. Cheer follows 
cheer, and hats are in the air, and people are 
shaking hands with each other. For they know 
a brave deed wlien they see it. And while they 
are thankful for life saved and disaster averted 
they glory in the handsome young hero who is 
unknown to most of them. 

He is a very shaky young hero. He speaks 
falteringly, and is obliged to lean on the arm of a 
young doctor, who assists him to a place where he 
can rest. 

“He’s been through a terrible nervous strain, 
and you people want to get away from him and 
let him rest a bit,” declares the young doctor 
pompously to the surrounding crowd. 

Slowly and reluctantly the throng drifted away, 
the race was called, and Dan was left alone with 
his two friends. Thad, who sat nearest, looked at 
him with a swelling heart and a lump in his 
throat. As for tender-hearted Mose, tears were 
in his eyes. 


244 


DAN DRUM3I0ND 


Dan looked at them and smiled. “ I ’ll be all 
right pretty soon, I guess,” he said. 

“Say, Dan, what did you think about?” in- 
quired Thad as they rode slowly home in the 
evening. 

Though still rather pale and shaky, Dan was 
himself once more, for youth has strong recuper- 
ative power. 

“ Why, at first I did n’t think at all,” he said 
simply. “ I just did it. But afterward when we 
went tearing around the track I thought of the 
children and the people west of the track.” 

“ Were you scared ? ” asked Mose. 

“ No,” answered Dan in surprise. “ I was n’t 
scared, but I was pretty nervous.” 

“ I heard some folks talking about you this 
afternoon,” said Thad, “ when I went to look at 
the jelly tags. And one woman said, ‘ The doc- 
tor says he’s nervous; but he didn’t act like 
it. He was pretty cool, I thought.’ ‘That’s 
because you do n’t know anything about it,’ 
said an Irish woman. ‘For what’s a nervous 
person but wan that ’s got nerve ? This worruld 
would be a poor place without the nervous wans 
intoirely.’ ” 

Dan laughed. And presently they had reached 


THE FAIR 


245 


home. But the story had gone before them and 
Dan was made much of. 

“Well,” said Thad in a pretended pout, “I 
guess T can tell you some news you do n’t know, 
anyway.” Everybody looked at him. 

“ Dan ’s got five out of the seven dollars for 

jelly.” 

“Well,” put in Mose, “he’s to have it, you 
know. He has n’t it yet.” 

“Just the same,” insisted Thad. 

And so Dan was commended by every one. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


PREMIUMS 

The next day the three boys were up and off 
again, and they left busy little tongues behind 
them. But it was at the noon hour when dinner- 
pails were brought out that the tongues ran 
fastest. 

“Dan can stop teams, and make jelly, and 
he knows a lot,” said Edna Hilbert, proudly. 
“ Maybe there ’ll be more teams for him to stop 
to-day, and if there are he ’ll stop them.” 

“Well, I don’t care if he can,” replied Susie 
Baxter. “ Mose is awful nice, too. Maybe he 
could stop a team if he tried. And anyway, he 
saw Dan do it,” she concluded. 

Thad had no small sister to stand up for him ; 
therefore his merits, such as they were, were left 
in the shade while Dan and Mose were eagerly 
praised until the bell rang. 

It seemed a little strange to Mose that not 
much attention was paid to Dan that day. 

246 


PREMIUMS 


247 


“ He might be anybody almost,” said Thad in- 
dignantly. 

The two did not reflect that the crowd was in 
general not the same crowd of the day before and 
was intent on other things. 

As for Dan, he was glad to slip along compara- 
tively unnoticed, for he was a very modest Dan. 
He had done his brave deed because it was to be 
done, and not that he might be gazed after and 
praised. 

“ He ’s so busy being a gentleman and getting 
ready for college that he doesn’t stop for any- 
thing,” grumbled Thad. 

“ That ’s the reason we like him,” observed 
Mose. “ If he went stepping it off as if he was 
some great one it would make us mad. But he 
likes us, and ’tends to his own affairs and that ’s 
the reason he ’s Dan. Pa was talking to ma about 
him last night and he called Dan a power for 
righteousness because he has the gift of making 
other folks want to be like him. Pa said he 
would n’t take a farm and have us boys set back 
where we were before Dan came.” 

“I wouldn’t like to be set back that far my- 
self,” answered Thad. “ My, but I was a green, 
stuck-up chap before Dan came ! ” 


248 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ He likes all the boys, but he chums with us 
and I hope he always will,” said Mose. 

Here Dan, who had been talking aside with one 
of the directors, came back. He looked rather 
flurried. 

“ She ’s been talking to me about my jelly,” he 
said. 

“What did she say? ” demanded Thad. 

“ She said she saw by looking it up that ‘3x7’ 
was Dan Drummond. And she said I could not 
enter jelly I did n’t make myself and she looked 
as if she hardly knew what to think when I told 
her I made it.” 

“Come on!” said Thad. “We’ll prove it to 
her.” 

Away he went followed by Dan and Mose. 

Dan pointed out the lady with whom he had 
been talking, and, with a very determined air, 
Thad walked up to her. 

Politely he lifted his hat and said, “Excuse 
me, but I am a friend of Dan Drummond’s. He 
made the jelly and Mose — that’s Mose Baxter 
with him — Mose and I helped him by gathering 
fruit.” 

It chanced that Mrs. Griggs was standing near 
and she said, “Why, is not this Thad Duncan?” 


PREMIUMS 


249 


With a blush the boy owned that he was Thad. 

“I think you may believe him,” said Mrs. 
Griggs. 

“I should not have thought of disbelieving 
him,” replied the lady, “ if it had not been such 
an unusual thing for a boy to make jelly, and you 
must remember that we are frequently imposed 
upon.” 

Thad flushed. “ As unusual,” he said, “ as for 
a boy to stop a runaway team when all the men 
stand by and let it run.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the lady. And she looked at Dan 
inquiringly. 

“ Yes,” said Thad answering her look as if she 
had spoken, “yes, that is Dan Drummond and 
he stopped that team yesterday.” 

“ Pardon me,” said the lady. “ He shall have 
his premiums. His jelly is excellent.” 

“Yes’m,” agreed Thad, mollified at once. 
“ Do n’t you want to come with me and see Ids 
things in Agricultural Hall ? He is n’t any girl, I 
tell you.” 

The lady laughed, and, being rather young and 
quite obliging, she went. “You seem fond of 
your friend,” she said as they walked along. 

“ Of course,” responded Thad. “ Everybody 


250 


DAN DBUMBIOND 


out our way thinks a lot of Dan. He ’s a gentle- 
man.” 

“ Ah,” said the lady interestedly. 

“ Yes,” said Thad, “ he has to be because none 
of his folks ever did a mean act. He heard a man 
say so once.” 

“ Where are his people ? ” asked the lady. 

“I don’t know. He doesn’t know himself. 
He ’s lost from them. But there ! — do you see 
that pumpkin ? That ’s his.” 

“ Yes,” answered the lady absently, “ I sup- 
pose he wants to find them ? ” 

“Well, he isn’t in any hurry about it,” replied 
Thad. “ He thinks he is n't good enough to please 
them yet. And besides he wants to go through 
college so they won’t be ashamed of him. That ’s 
'the reason he made the jelly.” 

The lady looked as if she did not understand. 

“Why, don’t you see?” went on Thad. “It 
takes a lot of money to go through college, and 
Mr. Hilbert ’s going to send him, but Dan wants 
to help. He does every honest thing he can be- 
cause he says a Drummond can’t let folks give 
him what he can earn himself.” 

“ It would be a good thing if there were more 
Drummonds,” said the lady half to herself. 


PREMIUMS 


251 


“There are,” said Tliad. “Dan knows that. 
He does n’t know how many, though.” 

At this the lady smiled and shortly after, hav- 
ing seen all of Dan’s exhibits, departed. 

“Well,” thought Thad as he watched her go, 
“I guess she knows now that Dan’s somebody, 
and not an imposing-on -you nobody. Seems to 
me I have to do a lot of speaking up for Dan 
first and last. But I ’ll do it. Everybody ’s got 
to know what sort Dan is, if they’re around 
me.” 

And then Dan and Mose came up. 

“We ’ve just seen the driver of that runaway 
team and the two little girls,” began Mose. 

“ You have ! ” exclaimed Thad. “ Wish I ’d 
seen them. Where are they now? ” 

“ I do n’t know,” said Dan. 

“ Did you find out the little girls’ names and 
wlio they are ? ” asked Thad, hoping that their 
parents might be of some consequence and Dan 
be made much of by them, at least. 

“ Yes,” said Mose. “ The children are his 
nieces. Their father and mother are dead, and he 
said he wouldn’t have had them hurt for any- 
thing.” 

“ What did he let them sit there for then, with 


252 


DAN DRmiMOND 


nobody hold of the lines?” demanded Thad. 
“ That ’s a great way to do.” 

“He didn’t think they would run,” said Dan. 
“They never had before. The driver is Dr. 
Dukane’s hired man, and that was the doctor’s 
team.” 

“ And they ’re poor, are they ? ” asked Thad. 

“ Yes,” answered Dan simply. 

Thad thought a moment. His visions of Dan 
praised and surrounded by admiring persons of 
consequence faded, but he said, “ Well, I ’m glad 
you saved them, anyway.” 

“So am I,” responded Dan. “I wouldn’t have 
missed it.” 

“You ought to have seen how thankful that 
driver was,” observed Mose. “I’d like to have 
somebody that thankful to me.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Dan. “You’d like 
it, and you would n’t like it, I think. At least 
that’s the way I feel.” 

“Say,” said Thad looking at a tent across a 
space that for an instant happened to be empty, 
“there ’s that panorama. We have n’t seen it yet. 
Let ’s go.” 

Dan objected. “ I must n’t spend even ten 
cents,” he said. 


PREMIUMS 


253 


“ Who asked you to? ” growled Thad with pre- 
tended roughness. “ It ’s my treat and you ’ve got 
to go.” 

The panorama was not all panorama. It was 
in part a goat show. There must have been a 
half dozen goats, white as snow, with gaily colored 
ribbons round their necks, that performed there 
daily. And the boys were soon laughing at them 
as they stood under the canvass roof of the trav- 
eling show. 

Presently the goats disappeared and the pano- 
rama man came out. He was a swarthy, thick-set 
man and Dan looked at him in surprise. 

It was the “ city man,” who drove the garbage 
cart — it was Mattie’s father. 

Dan had no time to say anything for the show 
now began. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 

The boys had had no experience of anything 
in the character of such an entertainment, but 
the general intelligence they had gained by study 
and good reading made them very sensible of 
the ludicrous in this particular performance. 

In the first place the scenery was wobbly and 
went along with a creak, and had a way of not 
stopping readily at the proper point. The show- 
man, Mr. Burton, had a pointer in his hand sim- 
ilar to those used in schoolrooms at the black- 
board. He was very much at his ease, and the 
tent was almost full. 

It was a continuous show and lasted twenty 
minutes. At the end of that time all the scenery 
had creaked across from one side of the tent to 
the other and the audience were dismissed. 
Such as were not satisfied could see a repetition 
by going outside and paying another dime. 

“ My show, ladies and gentlemen,” began Mr. 

254 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 


255 


Burton as he stood easily before them, now hold- 
ing the pointer horizontally before him at arm’s 
length with both hands, and now switching it up 
and down in the air as if it were a riding whip, 
“ my show is called ‘ The Ancient and Modern 
Wonders Mixed.’ Some likes their wonders kept 
separate, but I do n’t agree with ’em. ‘ Mix ’em,’ 
says I, ‘ and then you can sort of comparisonate 
’em.’ In this show you will see first an ancient 
wonder and then a modern one after the manner 
of a sandwich, and there ain’t nothin’ better than 
a sandwich, neither. A sandwich, as somebody 
was tollin’ me the other day, was named after an 
English lord, and therefore it ought to take Avith 
the American public or some part of it. I do n’t 
care nothin’ about lords myself, but there ’s them 
that do, of course, and I ’m bound to give all the 
points that ’ll set me ahead with my show. That ’s 
no more ’n business. Times is tight and all 
classes must be pleased ; them that likes lords 
and them that do n’t.” 

He paused and looked thoughtfully about him 
for a second. 

“ The first picture,” he went on, “ is ‘ The De- 
struction of Pompey/ and Herf?wlanum. ’ ” 

He turned his head to the right, snapped his 


256 


DAN DKUMMOND 


fingers, and said in a perfectly audible voice to 
some one invisible, “ Let her go. Bill.” 

The scenery began to creak. The huge picture 
stalked along, and was, apparently, about to keep 
on out of sight. But Mr. Burton was watchful. 
He held up a warning hand. 

“ Whoa’p ! ” he said. And the picture stopped. 

“ Now,” he said confidentially, “• this liere pic- 
ture is called a wonder. I do n’t think there ’s 
any wonder them two towns was destroyed by all 
them ashes coinin’ down on ’em. The wonder 
would ’a’ been if they had ’a’ stood it. But this 
is one of the ancient wonders. We have to take 
things as we find ’em.” 

Then over his shoulder, “ Go ’long, Bill.” 

The scenery began to creak again. Some small 
boys eagerly watching whispered audibly “ It 's a 
fire ! ” 

“ Yes, my young friends,” said Mr. Burton 
amiably, “ it is a fire. Whoa’p ! ” (to Bill.) 

“ But what fire ? The Chicago fire. I ’m a 
Chicago man myself. I lived there for years. I 
was there when the fire was and the wonder 
about this picture is that I ’m here to show it to 
you. Them was awful times, I tell you. Go 
’long, Bill ! ” 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 257 

Again the scenery creaked along, to be stopped 
in the usual manner. 

This here is called ‘ The Colussus of 
Rhodes,’ ” said Mr. Burton. “ Rhodes was the 
place where Colussus lived. He was a big 
stepper, and this picture shows him a-steppin’ to 
see how far he can step. Looks sort of childish 
to me, for we ’ve all seen boys a-steppin’ more or 
less, but them ancients was curious. Folks now- 
adays would n’t pay much attention to big step- 
pin’. Baseball is what we ’re after. But as I 
said before, we must take things as we find ’em. 
If we ’d lived that long ago, more than likely we ’d 
’a’ been wonderin’ at the same things. Go ’long. 
Bill.” 

Bill went along and rolled forth such a volume 
of paint to represent a fall of water that the small 
boys stared in awe. 

“ That ’s right, boys,” said Mr. Burton as this 
picture stopped of its own accord. “ That is a 
wonder and no mistake ! That ’s Niagry Falls. 
I ’ve been there and I know what I ’m talkin’ 
about. Such a thunderin’ roar as that water 
makes when it comes down you never heard. Up 
here,” and he pointed to the place in the picture, 
“ that water ’s as slick-goin’ as melted butter, and 
17 


258 


DAN DBUMBIOND 


then it tumbles right over before it knows it 
hardly. But the most interestin’ thing about 
them falls is that a man shoved his wife over them 
falls the very year I was there, and then went 
and told the authorities that she was a-pickin' 
gooseberries and got too near the edge and fell 
over. The papers was full of it. The authori- 
ties did n’t believe that man. They went to look 
for them gooseberry bushes and they could n’t find 
’em, nor yet the place where they ’d been pulled 
up by the roots when she tried to save herself 
from failin’. And so he got his come uppance. 
The way of the transgressor is hard, and it ought 
to be. The wonder is that it takes some folks 
so awful long to find it out.” Mr. Burton 
paused. 

“ The facts of the business is,” he said apolo- 
getically, “we’ve got more wonders, but they’ve 
just got stuck and won’t move. I do n’t know 
what does ail ’em, but Bill can’t budge ’em. 
When I strike Chicago again I ’ll have an expert 
look at ’em, but till then we ’ll have to do without 
’em. We all have to take things as we find ’em, 
you know.” 

Then Mr. Burton made his final bow, and the 
audience felt itself dismissed. 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 259 

“Well, come on, Dan,” said Thad laughing. “I 
got my money’s worth, did n’t you, Mose ? ” 

“ I should say so,” returned Mose with a smile. 

“Wait a minute,” said Dan. “I know that 
man and I should like to speak with him.” 

Thad stared amazed. 

“ I roomed in the same building with him in 
Chicago,” went on Dan bravely. For with his 
higli ideals and at his age, when everything is 
judged, in the main, by its appearance, it was 
brave in Dan to acknowledge his acquaintance 
with a man whose every look and tone was a 
source of amusement to his two best friends. ' 

“Shall we go on outside? Would you rather?” 
asked Mose considerately. 

Thad looked on eager to hear the answer. For 
Thad had plenty of curiosity. If Dan said “go,” 
why go he would, of course. But he felt inter- 
ested to hear what Dan and Mr. Burton might 
say to each other. 

“ Oh, no,” said Dan, “ come on with me.” 

Mr. Burton was looking a little curiously at the 
three who lingered so unaccountably in his tent, 
but when Dan turned his full face toward him a 
look of intelligence came into the man’s eyes, and 
he was ready when Dan drew near. 


260 


DAN DRUM3IOND 


“Well, sir,” he began heartily, “ if you ain’t 
Dan Drummond, who are you? ” And he put out 
his hand which Dan took very pleasantly as he 
said, “Yes, I’m Dan Drummond, Mr. Burton. 
These are my two friends, Thad Duncan and Mose 
Baxter.” 

“ Glad to .see you, gentlemen, both of you,” de- 
clared Mr. Burton. And Thad and Mose sud- 
denly lost sight of Mr. Burton’s amusing peculiar- 
ities. Such is the power of the best politeness 
one has to offer. 

“Well, Dan, and how are you makin’ it? You 
ain’t newsboy in’ it, nor yet blackin’ shoes, I take 
it, by the looks of you.” 

“ No,” smiled Dan. “I live with Mr. Hilbert.” 

“So? His hired man, I suppose?” 

“ No, sir,” put in Thad. 

“No offence, young gentleman, no offence. J 
was a hired man once, and now look at me. I 
own all these here goats and this tent and these 
wonders and I’ve got a hired man of my own, for 
what else is Bill? Merit rises in this country 
and do n’t you forget it. 

“Well, Dan,” turning to his former acquaint- 
ance, “and who ’s Mr. Hilbert ? What ’s his line ? ” 

“ He ’s a minister.” 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 


261 


“ Is^ — is he ? What do you do for him ? ” 

“All I can.’’ 

“ Oh, you ’re a chore boy, then ? ” 

“No, sir,” again put in Thad. “Mr. Hilbert 
thinks a lot of Dan. He’s going to send him to 
college, and he wanted him for his son, only Dan 
would n’t.” 

“You wouldn’t!” exclaimed Mr. Burton in 
surprise as he turned again to Dan. 

“ No, I would n’t. And now how are Mrs. Bur- 
ton and Mattie ? ” 

“ Hearty, sir, hearty. They could n’t be nothin’ 
else since I left off drinkin’. You see,” turning 
to Thad and Mose, “ I do n’t make no bones of 
ownin’ up that I drank once and pretty hard, too. 
But I’ve quit now, and quittin’ drink ain’t 
nothin’ to be ashamed of. I’d just as soon the 
president heard of it as not.” 

There was an open, honest look in Mr. Burton’s 
face as he spoke that still further increased the 
favorable regard in which Thad and Mose already 
held him since he had called them gentlemen, and 
Mr. Burton saw it. 

“ You’re pretty fair boys, I take it,” he said ap- 
preciatively. 

“And now why wouldn’t 3^011 be Mr Hilbert’s 


262 


DAN DRUMMOND 


son ? ’’ he asked Dan. “ That beats me. To get 
to be a minister’s son aiiiT no slouch of a job for 
a boy no older than you. I like ministers myself. 
’T was along of one of ’em pointing the way for 
me that I got out of drunkenness. And I always 
speak a good word for all of ’em.” 

He paused and looked inquiringly at Dan. 

“Well I couldn’t, you know,” said Dan apolo- 
getically. “I’m a Drummond.” 

“Drummond by name and Drummond by na- 
ture, eh ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Dan. 

“ Well, now I ’d ’most forgot that not long after 
you was gone a man come a-huntin’ you. It was 
when Mattie was a-usin’ the room you left and 
some one come there a-knockin’. It was right 
early but she ’d gone to bed and it scared her. 

“I heard her say, ‘Who’s there?’ in a trem- 
blin’ voice, for I was n’t drunk that night, and so 
I took a hand in the business to once. 

“ Says I, ‘ What do yon want, sir? ’ 

“ And he says, ‘ I ’m adookin’ for Dan Drum- 
mond.’ 

“ ‘ You are,’ says I. ‘ What do you want of 
him ? ’ 

“ ‘I’ve got news for him,’ says he. ‘ His folks 


AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 263 

has just found out about him and they want 
him.’ 

“‘Well, they won’t get him then,’ says I. 
‘ He ’s been gone a week.’ 

“ ‘ Where did he go ? ’ says he. 

“‘I don’t know,’ says I. ‘He was a clever 
little chap and had his room paid two weeks 
ahead and so my daughter, Mattie, gets tlie use of 
it till time’s up. Mattie ain’t strong and she 
likes a room to herself.’ 

“ ‘ Hum ! ’ says he. I can see him now as he 
stood there with the light a-flickerin’ on his face. 
He looked all put out. 

“ ‘ Tins is a great piece of work,’ says he. 

“ ‘ So it is,’ says I. ‘ I expect you was to make 
something by fetchin’ him.’ 

“And that didn’t suit him. He looked sort of 
mad for a minute and then he made himself look 
civil so sudden it was astonishin’ to see him. ‘If 
you hear anything of him, let me know,’ says he. 

“ ‘ I sha’ n’t hear nothin’,’ says I, ‘ for I do n’t 
know which way he went nor how far he got be- 
fore he stopped.’ 

“ And with that he give me a card with his 
name and number and went away and that’s all 
there was to it.” 


264 


DAN DRmmOND 


“Have you the card now? ” asked Dan eagerly. 

“ Well now I’m sorry to say I hain’t. I kept it 
with me, and one day this summer I dropped it 
and Pauline chewed it up.” 

There was silence a moment. Then Thad 
asked, “ Who ’s Pauline ? And what made her 
chew the card ? ” 

Mr. Burton laughed. “Pauline’s one of the 
goats,” he said, “ and she chews whatever she can 
get. She ain’t at all particular.” 

It was now time the boys were starting for home, 
so they bade Mr. Burton farewell and passed out 
of the tent. 

Very quietly Dan gathered up and packed the 
premium jelly into a basket and, with the three 
horses at a walk, they left the fair and all its ex- 
citements behind. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A NEW BOY 

The one broad, unpaved street leading from the 
fair-ground to Wennott was crowded with hacks 
and carriages full of people. Here and there one 
saw a few foot passengers, keeping well out of the 
way of the teams, and a few, like our three boys, 
were on horseback. 

Thad and Mose enjoyed threading their way 
along among so many, but Dan was preoccupied. 

To think that the Drummonds had been seek- 
ing him ! Well, he would do his best not to make 
them ashamed when they did find him. With 
that thought he lifted his handsome liead proudly 
and smiled as he looked about him. And very 
soon they had reached the town, and were out be- 
yond it on the road home. 

It was with a tightening of the heart strings 
that Mr. and Mrs. Hilbert heard Dan’s news that 
evening, but they received it cheerfully, resolved 

to be glad over whatever pleased their boy. 

265 


266 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“I’ve been talking with pa about your folks, 
Dan,” said Thad the next day, “ and he says if 
they could send a man to hunt you up they must 
have means.” 

Dan smiled happily. “I suppose so,” he an- 
swered. 

Thad sighed. “ I suppose I might as well own 
up how mean I am,” he said as he threw an arm 
over Dan’s shoulder. “ I think Pauline was a 
pretty fine old goat to chew up that card. I want 
us three boys to go through college together same 
as we do everything else.” 

Dan smiled again. “ I guess we ’ll go through 
together,” he said. 

“Joe Whitman was over to our house last 
night and he said he guessed now you ’d stop 
working so hard and just go in to the bank and 
borrow the money to go to college on.” 

“ Borrow ! ” he exclaimed. “ I shall never bor- 
row if I can help it.” 

“Knew 3^ou wouldn’t and told Joe so,” cried 
Thad. “‘ Why not? ’ said he. ‘I would.’ Joe’s 
a good fellow, too, only he is n’t you.” 

“ I don’t believe in borrowing,” said Dan, “un- 
less,” he added playfully, “ it ’s a team and wagon 
to go huckstering with.” 


A NEW BOY 


267 


“Tell you what!” rejoined Thad, “we had 
pretty good times huckstering.” 

To the great satisfaction of Thad and Mose the 
Wennott papers wrote Dan up with pride and, 
after reading their glowing accounts, the boys 
hardly knew which to esteem more highly — his 
stopping the runaway team or his making jelly — 
for both were made to appear extremely credit- 
able. 

“ Dan ’s in the paper ! ” said Edna Hilbert to 
Susie Baxter with triumphant joy in her tones. 

“Well,” answered Susie, “ I guess Mose would 
have been in the paper too, if he ’d done what Dan 
did, and maybe he will be some day, anyway.” 

It was hard to quench Susie’s pride and faith in 
Mose. 

And now for two or three years things went 
along so quietly that nothing seemed to happen. 
The little boys had ceased their personating, but 
one and all they were pressing on in the steps of 
their older brothers. 

The minister used to look around over his con- 
gregation on Sundays and rejoice. Scattered 
here and there in family pews were his students. 
Marks of study and thought were showing them- 
selves on the faces that much exercise in the 


268 


DAN DRUM3I0ND 


fields kept ruddy. There were the clear, lumi- 
nous eyes that no cigarette would ever dim and 
blear; there the grace in attitude that constant 
self-respect coupled with deference to others had 
given ; there the vigorous young minds that fol- 
lowed the preaching closely, and believed in it be- 
cause the minister practiced all the week what he 
taught on Sunday. And ever the minister said 
in his heart, “Thank God for my boys, and, most 
of all, thank God for Dan ! ” 

How far that idea of keeping up the famil}^ 
honor was spreading ! A new family had moved 
into the neighborhood, and one of their chief pos- 
sessions was a wilful, headstrong boy^ — a young 
boy who thought forbidden pleasures were the 
most to be enjoyed. He it was who proposed to 
little Joe Baxter to go raiding for apples. There 
were plenty of apples at home just as green and 
unwholesome as apples could be, but it \^as Whit- 
man’s apples, taken without the knowledge of the 
Whitmans, that Roy Hoover wanted. 

Little Joe regarded him with scorn. “Baxters 
do n’t steal apples,” he said and he marched off. 

Roy was astonished but undaunted. He liked 
the Baxter boys. So he brought a pernicious 
story with him to school the next day and offered 


A NEIV BOY 


269 


to lend it to Arthur Baxter. Arthur took it gin- 
gerly, looked disgustedly at its pictures, and 
handed it back. 

“Baxters don’t read things like that,” he said, 
with a nod at the objectionable story. 

“ Baxters ! who ’s Baxters, anyway? ” cried Roy 
in a rage. 

“ Baxters is Baxters,” said Arthur, proudly. 

Roy had not been long in his new home before 
he found out that not only were Baxters, Baxters, 
but Warings were Warings, and Whitmans, Whit- 
mans. 

“I don’t like it here,” he complained at home. 
“ The boys are always studying or working, and 
when they play it ’s just games.” 

“ What kind of games ? ” asked his sympathiz- 
ing mother. 

“Oh, baseball and football. There ain’t any 
joking going on. Nor there ain’t any playing 
tricks on anybody.” 

Joking, in Roy Hoover’s vocabulary, meant 
rude and derisive taunts and covert allusions to 
the mistakes of the “joker’s” victim. He was 
right. There was no “joking” of that kind go- 
ing on in that neighborhood, but there was plenty 
of the jolliest fun. 


270 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ It does seem a sort of dismal place to live,” 
assented Mrs. Hoover. “ There ’s never a scrap 
of news to be picked up from one week’s end to 
another. I do n’t know any more about the ways 
of the people here than if I didn’t live here. 
They ’re real kind of sociable, too. Always doing 
for one another, and never talking about one an- 
other. Near’s I can make out they seem to be 
trying to live like the preacher tells them to. 
That would be an awful dull way to live for me. 
I like to hear about folks’s failings once in awliile 
myself. It sort of heartens me up. I declare 
for ’t, I knew some little mean trick about ’most 
everybody where we came from. And it was real 
interesting. But land, Roy, there ’s no use of talk- 
ing. Here we are for a year and here we must 
stay, but I ’m awful glad pa rented instead of buy- 
ing. This place won’t never seem like home to 
me. These people when they get met up to- 
gether just go crusading all over the earth, China 
and every other place, till I ’m just numb a-hear- 
ing them.” 

But the spirit worked. Before six months 
were gone Roy went to his mother, and this is the 
question he propounded : 

“ Say, mother, why ain’t Hoovers, Hoovers ? ” 

I 


A NEW BOY 


271 


His mother understood him. 

“ Ain’t they ? ” she asked evasively. 

“ No, mother, you know they ain’t.” 

“Well, then, you’d better make ’em Hoovers,” 
returned his mother. “You can, for all me.” 

The little fellow thought awhile. “ All right,” 
he said at last. “I’m going to make Hoovers, 
Hoovers.” 

With that decision he had tlie open sesame of 
the neighborhood, and suddenly found himself 
within, where heretofore he had felt left out. 
Everybody helped him. The little Baxters made 
a chum of him, and he soon cared no more for 
“joking.” 

“ Say, father,” he said a few weeks later, 
“Hoovers is Hoovers now. Let’s don’t ever 
move away. This is the place.” 

These were Dan’s very words, “This is the 
place.” 

Twice a year now Mrs. Halfhill came for a 
visit, and each visit was three months long. 

“ I do n’t know but you ’ll get tired of me,” she 
said to her daughter and her son-in-law, “ but stay 
away from Thad I can’t. Letters do n’t do no 
good. I want to see for myself just how he’s 
getting on.” 


272 


DAN DRUMMOND 


There was no danger, however, of Mr. and 
Mrs. Duncan being tired of her, and the shrewd 
old lady rather suspected it. She merely wished 
to have her suspicions confirmed by words, and 
they weue confirmed most heartily. 

But it was not only Thad she wanted to see. 
That whole neigliborhood was her pride. 

“No squabbling,” she said, “about things 
that’s no ’count on earth. No sniffing noses in 
the air and refusing to speak to one another. I 
have a good time every minute I ’m here. And 
then them boys ! Well, I always did like boys 
uncommon well, but there ain’t no such boys as 
them in the state, and I know it.” 

“Mrs. Baxter,” she said one day, “your girls 
are coming along now. They ’d ought to have a 
chance, too. I always was partial to boys, but 
I ’m free to own I ’m just a little mite more partial 
to girls.” 

Mrs. Baxter smiled. She knew what Mrs. 
Halfhill thought of Mose and Joe and Arthur, 
and she had a most friendly feeling for the old 
lady. 

“ Yes,” she answered, “ the girls are going to 
college, too. And the old house will have to do,” 
she ended with a sigh. 


A NEW BOY 


273 


“ Mrs. Lincoln’s old house was log,” came the 
rejoinder, “ but she sent out a son that ’ll make 
that old house respected forever. Do n’t you be 
downhearted. ’T ain’t the outside of the house, 
but what comes of it that ’s thought about in the 
long run. You’ve got three boys that thinks it 
beneath them to do a dishonorable deed, and 
you ’re just three times as lucky as my daughter 
Mehitabel, for she’s only got one. But I can’t 
help pitying Dan’s mother to think she had to be 
took before she see what a son she had.” 

And then she began and told again about the 
first time she saw Dan and how she had given 
him soap and a towel. 

“ I do n’t know how I came to do it,” she went 
on, “but I just seemed to see all at once that 
soap and him went natural together. And so 
they did, and so they do, for he ’s clean inside and 
out. Of course, I know there ’s some awful mean 
people as clean as pinks, but I ’m free to confess I 
do n’t understand how they came to be that way. 
That ’s one of the mysteries, now, ain’t it, Mrs. 
Baxter ? ” 

Mrs. Baxter laughed and owned that it was, 
but there was another mystery that she thought 
about without speaking as she looked into the 
18 


274 


DAN DRUBrMOND 


kindly face of this cheery old woman who had 
had her share of trouble, for she was a widow, 
and that was why everybody was encouraged after 
talking with her. Others might speak sympa- 
thizing words, Mrs. Halfhill braced up the spirit 
and made it strong. 

When the Hoovers’ year was up they went 
away, after all. Mr. Hoover bought some cheap 
Nebraska land and moved his wife and son there 
so that he could have his property under his own 
eye. It was a county whose residents were for 
the most part Swedes— people good and fair deal- 
ing in the main, and there were many blue-eyed 
boys among them. 

“ What do you mean by dat ‘ Hoovers is Hoo- 
ers? ’ ” asked Jan Jansen one day. 

As well as he could Roy explained. Jan lis- 
tened thoughtfully. 

“Why not Jansens is Jansens then?” he asked. 

“You can make ’em Jansens if you want to,’* 
answered Roy. “ All you ’ve got to do is to be 
above doing mean tricks.” 

“ And dat is all, is it ? ” 

“ What?” 

“ I have tought what you call it treeks is goot. 
A man makes much mit treeks.” 


A NEW BOY 


275 


“Well, he just don't. There’s nothing more 
foolish than tricks. And that ain’t goody-goody 
neither. It’s sense. When you’re talking about 
making, you ’ve got to look ahead. You can’t 
play tricks very long with the same people. Not 
very much you can’t. And it ain’t honorable. 
You can’t keep up and trick. You’ve got to get 
down to do it.” 

“Where you learn all dat? You tree, four 
years younger dan me. Where you learn dat ? ” 
And Jan looked steadily at the young American 
boy. 

“ I learned it where we lived last, back in 
Iowa,” said Roy courageously. It was not easy 
for him, this talk with Jan. 

“ Them folks where you live last, dey not play 
no treeks one mit anoder? No what you call it, 
beat one anoder ? ” 

“ Nah. They ’d be ashamed to do such a thing.” 

“ Dey must be queer folks. I tink folks mostly 
plays treeks, one mit de odder. You will get 
older some day.” And he went off. 

A month later Roy saw him again. “ I plays 
me no more treeks,” he began in a mournful tone 
while he shook his head solemnly from side to 
side. “ I plays me no more treeks,” and he shut 


276 


DAN DRUMMOND 


his lips together tiglit. Then he opened his 
mouth again and went on. “ Ole Olesoii, he play 
me one mean treek — one mean treek.” Again he 
shook his head. “ I not want to be so mean as 
dat Ole Oleson. I plays me no more treeks. 
Jansens is Jansens.” 

Roy, young as he was, could not help laughing 
at Jan’s strange reason for turning to the paths 
of honor, but he said cheerily, 

“ All right. Jansens is Jansens.” 

And Jansens were Jansens from that time for- 
ward. 

But Dan would never know that in a state be- 
yond, Roy and Jan, as well as they were able, 
were keeping the step with him. 

Nobody knows all who keep step with him as 
he goes up or down. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


A FRISKY GOAT 

Mr. Burton was a man who tired of any oc- 
cupation after following it awhile, and the Won- 
ders were no exception. 

“ Whatever they was to other folks,” he always 
said when talking the matter over, “ they was n’t 
no wonders to me. I was too used to ’em. And 
so I sold ’em to Bill. Bill, he ain’t tired of ’em. 
He ’s slow. Bill is. But I kept the goats and not 
only kept ’em but bought more of ’em and some 
little small carriages for ’em, and now here I am 
doin’ the summer resorts, and hirin’ ’em out to the 
young ones.” 

“ Does it pay?” asked a man, one day. 

“ Well,” replied Mr. Burton, “ as to that nothin’ 
pays a fortune. It’s a change, and I kind of like 
it. Funny, ain’t it, how the friskiest and the 
riskiest creeturs has the demand ? Now Pauline, 
she ’s the livest goat I ’ve got, and she ’s always the 
one that’s wanted. That’s just the way it is, and 

I ain’t a-sellin’ Pauline, now I tell you.” 

277 


278 


DAN DRUMMOND 


It was as Mr. Burton had said. Pauline was in 
high favor at the village of Sea Cliff. Especially 
was she esteemed by a certain imperious little 
lady whom Mr. Burton did not know, but whom 
he had often seen with her nurse. 

Early one afternoon nurse and child came 
along to where the goat stand was, for Mr. Burton 
had a stand. 

Mr. Burton was just putting his favorite into 
the traces and the little girl said, “ There ’s Paul- 
ine ! I want to do.” 

“ No, no,” said the nurse. “ Be a good girl and 
come with me.” 

“I want to do,” repeated the child, and she 
stopped beside the goat carriage. 

“ No, no, I can’t stay to watch you now,” per- 
suaded the nurse. “ And, besides, that ’s the frisky 
goat.” 

“That’s Pauline,” answered the child with dig- 
nity. “ She’s the nicest doat. I want to do.” 

The nurse looked distressed. She was new to 
her work and quite young. 

“Oh, let her go!” put in Mr. Burton. “I’ll 
look after her while you’re gone.” And he 
glanced at the purse in her hand. 

The nurse hesitated. She Iiad an errand at the 


A FRISKY GOAT 


279 


store, and while she stood uncertain the little girl 
climbed into the carriage and gathered up the 
lines. 

“ A doat is nicer ’an a horse,” she said. “ Dit 
up, Pauline.” 

Mr. Burton laughed, the nurse went off to do 
her errand, and away drove the little girl. 

Quietly Pauline went along and Mr. Burton, 
who had an assistant and so was at liberty when 
he chose to be, followed after. 

Very straight the small driver sat, but presently 
Pauline tired of the direction in which she was 
going. She turned sharply, upset the carriage 
and spilled the occupant out. 

With one hand Mr. Burton stopped Pauline 
and with the other he reached to help the sobbing 
child. She was not much hurt, he could see that, 
but she was crying from fright. 

“Come, come,” soothed Mr. Burton. “Let me 
put you in the carriage again.” 

“No,” sobbed the child. “Horses are. nicer 
’an doats. I want to do home.” 

“What’s your name?” asked Mr. Burton as he 
looked about him and wished the nurse would 
come back. 

“ Mary Drummond,” said the child. 


280 


DAN DRUMMOND 


Mr. Burton opened his eyes in astonishment. 
“ Here ’s luck ! ” he thought, and he picked up the 
little girl on one arm and set out aimlessly, lead- 
ing Pauline by her hitching strap. 

He had gone but a few steps when the little 
one put out her hands and cried, “ Papa I papa ! ” 

A gentleman turned and came toward her. 

“ How is this, Mary ? ” he asked in surprise. 

“ Pauline frowed me out,” she sobbed as her 
father took her. 

The gentleman looked puzzled. “Who is Paul- 
ine ? ” he asked. 

Then Mr. Burton spoke. “No offence, sir,” he 
said touching his hat, “but you’re Mr. Drummond, 
I take it ? ” 

The gentleman bowed. 

“ Glad to meet you, sir,” went on Mr. Burton 
cordially. “ This here ’s Pauline.” And he gave 
a jerk at the hitch strap that brought the goat 
into prominence. 

Mr. Drummond looked at her. “ Oh ! ” he said. 

“Yes, sir, Pauline’s inclined to get herself 
mixed up in your family affairs.” 

“ I hardly understand you,” began Mr. Drum- 
mond. 

“ That ’s all right,” answered Mr. Burton with 



“ Pauline frowed me out.” 





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A FRISKY 00 AT 


281 


an easy wave of his disengaged hand. “Pauline’s 
a pretty independent goat, if I do say it. ’T ain’t 
more ’n three year ago she chewed up your agent’s 
card. Yes, sir, chewed it all to bits. And the re- 
sult was that when I run across Dan Drummond 
at the fair I had n’t neither name nor number to 
give him. And now here she ’s throwed your little 
girl out and got her to crying. Yes, sir, she ’s as 
independent a goat as ever I see. Do n’t nothin’ 
faze her.” And Mr. Burton paused expectantly. 

“Excuse me, but I have no agent,” said Mr. 
Drummond. “ You have mistaken me for some 
one else.” 

“ Have, eh ? Did n’t you send a man down to 
Chicago about five year ago to find Dan Drum- 
mond ’cause he was your kin ? And when he got 
there Dan was gone? And now he’s livin’ to a 
minister’s and doin’ fine. I thought when your 
little girl said that her name was Drummond that 
Pauline had done it sure. For Dan, he looked as 
if he felt pretty bad when he found Pauline had 
chewed that card up.” 

Mr. Burton was very earnest and seemed so dis- 
appointed that Mr. Drummond said courteously, 
“ I am sorry, but I know nothing about the matter. 
I will inquire, however. Perhaps some other 


282 


DAN DRUMMOND 


member of the family may be the one you are 
seeking.” 

“ Meaning your brother, sir?” 

“ Oh, no. One of my uncles.” 

“ Yes, sir,” said Mr. Burton, after a moment’s 
thought. “That’s it. Of course it’s your uncle. 
You ’re too young. I might have known it.” 
And so saying he handed out his card, and with 
Pauline withdrew. 

“That was a mighty close shave,” said Mr. Bur- 
ton to himself as he walked on. He looked be- 
hind him at the goat, docile enough now. 

“ You ’re a pretty frisky old girl, Pauline,” he 
said. “Keep on friskin’ and who knows what’ll 
come of it! We’ll get hold of the right Drum- 
mond yet.” 

He walked on, and as he walked his thoughts 
continued : “ But no tollin’ when either. Who 

knows where his uncle lives, and which uncle ’tis, 
anyway. He do n’t live here himself. He ’s just 
here a-sea-sidin’ it, same as me or anybody else.” 
He sighed. “Well, I’d like to help Dan if I 
could,” he ended. 

He had now reached his stand, and there was at 
once another applicant for Pauline. Mr. Burton 
watched her driven off with a pleased smile. 


A FRISKY GOAT 


283 


“ First and last that goat ’s a good one,” he said 
to himself. “But I wish while she was a-tippin’, 
she ’d ’a’ tipped out the right Drummond baby. 
But a body mustn’t expect too much. ’T ain’t 
every goat that would have tipped ary Drum- 
mond, right one or wrong one.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


A REMINDER 

The season waned and nothing was heard by- 
Mr. Burton that could be of advantage to Dan. 

“No use of me stayin' here much longer,” he 
said. “ These here goats and me had better be 
skippin’ out and takin’ in the county fairs. But 
before I go, I ’m a-goin’ to have another try at Mr. 
Drummond. He’s a artist, and I’ve noticed that 
them kind sometimes needs their memory jogged. 
Like as not he’s forgot Dan by this time, his uncle 
not bein’ handy to talk the matter over with.” 

At once Mr. Burton set out for the studio. 

“ Guess I’ll talk art with him. That ’ll sort of 
limber him up,” said Mr. Burton to himself. 
“Nothin’ like showin’ you ’re interested in a man’s 
business. Heartens me, now I tell you, when any- 
body praises up the goats.” He paused. 

“ Goats ! ” he repeated. “ Goats I There ’t is ! 
I’ve struck it sure enough. His business and 
mine will hitch first-rate. I’ll just ask him by 

way of a starter how much he’d take to make 
284 


A REMINDER 


285 


/ 

Pauline’s picture. I don’t want no picture of 
Pauline but it’ll show him I believe he could paint 
it, anyway.” 

Full of this scheme for promoting amiability 
between himself and Mr. Drummond, Mr. Burton 
arrived at the studio and, fortunately, found the 
artist in. 

“Well, sir, how are you?” began Mr. Burton, 
cordially. “ I do n’t need to give you another of 
my cards, because you’ve got one a’ready. And 
besides I ain’t got any now. I’ve just run out, 
and the season bein’ over like, I guess I won’t get 
no more at present.” And with a genial wave of 
the hand Mr. Burton ceased talking and helped 
himself to a chair. 

Mr. Drummond looked puzzled. He half re- 
membered his visitor and yet could not place him. 

Mr. Burton saw it, and came to his help. 

“ Do n’t you be put out now because you can’t 
name me,” he said. “You’re a artist, that’s 
what’s the matter with you, and it’s just as I 
thought, your memory needs joggin’ a bit. I’m 
Mr. Burton, the goat and carriage man.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Mr. Drummond. 

“Why, you can’t place me yet!” exclaimed 
Mr. Burton in surprise. “Don’t you remember 


286 


DAN DRU3IM0ND 


the day Pauline tipped out your baby? I give 
you my card, you know.” 

“ Yes, yes,” said Mr. Drummond. “ I remem- 
ber now. You must excuse me. As you say, 
my memory needs jogging.” 

“No offence, sir. Different sorts it takes to 
make a world. If I did n’t remember no better, 
though, I’d be beat more’n once. Why, when I 
was doin’ the fairs with my Wonders more’n 
once a boy that had n’t got enough first time, in- 
stead of payin’ for more would crawl in under the 
tent when there wasn’t nobody lookin’. But it 
did n’t do him no good, now I tell you. I knew 
him soon as I laid eyes on him, and out he went 
that minute or paid his dime like a man. I ain’t no 
cheat, and I do n’t encourage cheatin’ in nobody. 
There wgn’t no boy land in the pen for want of 
me ketchin’ him up short when he ’s on the cheat. 
Lettin’ ’em run is a sparin’ the rod and spoilin’ 
the child sort of business I don’t believe in. But 
here I am just a-runnin’ on. I ’m a considerable 
of a talker, but I can’t help it. Sort of got in the 
way of it when I was in the Wonder business.” 

Mr. Drummond bowed and looked amused 
while Mr. Burton gave his tongue a moment’s 
rest and gazed about him. 


A liEJ/INmJIi 


287 


“ Got considerable many pictures started, ain’t 
you?” 

“ Yes,” smiled the artist. 

“ Must cost you a pile to frame up a lot at one 
time, but I expect you get a reduction.” 

Again the artist smiled but he made no answer. 

“That’s all right,” said Mr. Burton, who had a 
quick eye. “You ain’t said nothin’. When 
dealers favor you, mum’s the word. I should 
have done the same if you ’d asked me about my 
goat carriages. Just a matter of business and 
them kind of secrets is no harm anyway. 

“ I do n’t see no animals in none of your pic- 
tures,” went on Mr. Burton. “ How would you 
like to paint Pauline, now? What would you 
take to do it ? ” 

The artist was rather taken aback, but he 
asked politely, “Pauline is a goat, I think you 
said?” 

“ Yes, sir,” answered Mr. Burton promptly. 
“And a mighty smart one, too, or she’d never ‘a’ 
picked on your baby to tip over.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Drummond. 

“Well, I’ve been on the lookout for the Drum- 
monds for about three year now, on account of 
Dan. How Pauline found it out, I do n’t know. 


288 


DAN DlimiMOND 


for she never tipped a baby over before and like 
as not she won’t again. Beats all, do n’t it?” 

“ Oh, I remember,” said Mr. Drummond. 
“ You spoke of him when I saw you before. 
Now, as to your proposition, — I do n’t paint ani- 
mals. I paint marines.” 

What a marine was Mr. Burton did not know, 
but he did not confess his ignorance. “ That’s all 
right,” he responded. “ When did you hear from 
your uncle ? ” 

“ Pardon me. I do not understand.” 

“ Why, your uncle that was hunting for Dan.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Mr. Drummond. “ That 
was a mere surmise on my part. He is abroad. I 
have not seen him for a 3^ear. He is an elderly man 
and he did lose track of a grandson whom he had 
never seen, through a family misunderstanding.” 

“Where is he now?” asked Mr. Burton as 
eagerly as Dan himself could have done. 

“ At present he is in Edinburgh,” replied Mr. 
Drummond. 

“ What ’s his first name ? ” 

“ Daniel.” 

“ He ’s the one ! He ’s the one ! ” exclaimed Mr. 
Burton delightedly. “ And ain’t Pauline the goat 
though ! ” 


A REMINDER 


2B9 


He paused a moment. “ Now you tell me what 
he looks like,” he went on. “ No, do n’t you do it 
neither. Let me tell you what your uncle looks 
like. He ’s tall ? ” And Mr. Burton looked eagerly 
at the artist who nodded his head affirmatively. 

“ And slim like ? ” 

Another nod. 

“ And a head on him that makes all the women 
and the men, too, for the matter of that, take to 
him ? ” 

Mr. Drummond looked surprised. 

“ His head ’s a nice shape, I mean, and he holds 
it sort of proud like, and yet he ain’t proud 
neither, and his eyes are great bjg ones, nearly 
black only sort of melting like, and his lashes is 
as long, — but what ’s the use of goin’ on ? He ’s 
just handsome. And polite ! — well, there can’t 
no one touch him for manners that ever I see.” 

The artist turned to a table drawer and 
searched among some cards in it. “Here,” he 
said a moment later handing out a photograph of 
an elderly man. 

“ That ’s him ! ” cried Mr. Burton. “ That ’s the 
way Dan ’ll look when he ’s that old.” 

“ Sit down again, won’t you ? ” said Mr. Drum- 
mond, “ and tell me all you know about Dan.” 

19 


290 


DAN DBUM3IOND 


“ Well,” said Mr. Burton, reseating himself, “I 
do n’t know all there is to know, of course. First 
I see him he was a newsboy in Chicago. His in a 
was dead then, and he did n’t have nobody to look 
after him, but his head was up just the same, and 
he was clean and honest. Next he went to boot- 
blackin’, and then he got tired of that and said he 
was goin’ to the country to get him a Jiome. He 
thought the country was like Lincoln Park. 
Great idea, wasn’t it? I ain’t run on to no coun- 
try like Lincoln Park yet myself. You see, we 
lived in the same buildin’ with him. We was 
poor enough them days, for I was a dr in kin’ man 
then, which I ain’t now. 

“ My wife and him used to have talks, and he 
was all for sky and grass and birds and trees. 
And he was mighty good to my daughter, Mattie, 
lettin’ her have his room when he went till his 
rent was out. He was always paid two weeks 
ahead, and lie wouldn’t take nothin’ from nobody. 
Had a notion to earn everything himself, you see. 
Well, he hadn’t been gone only a week, and 
Mattie was sleepin’ in his room, when there come 
a knock at the door one evening and scared her. 
I was n’t drunk that night, and I asked who ’t was 
and what he wanted. I was settin’ in our room — 


A HEMJNDEB 


291 


we did n^t have but one — with my wife and the 
rest of the children. Only Mattie had gone to 
bed, because she was always poorly and noise 
did n’t agree with her. 

“ And that man was your uncle’s agent a-huntin’ 
Dan, and Dan was gone and nobody knew which 
way to look for him. But your uncle’s agent left 
his card with his name and number, so’s I could 
let him know if I heard anything. Well, next 
thing I got converted and quit drinkin’, and we 
did n’t stay there long after that, I can tell you. 
My wife, she ’s got a good little home and she ’s 
fetchin’ up the children while I ’m out makin’ the 
money to do it with. I ’ve been on the travel con- 
siderable, and I always took the card along, but 
about three year ago, when I was in the Wonder 
business, I dropped it and Pauline chewed it up. 
I did n’t think much about it, for I was out in 
central Iowa then, and I didn’t never expect to 
run across Dan, anyway. But lo and behold 
you, that very fall when I was showin’ to the 
fair in he come with two other boys to see the 
Wonders. 

“I didn’t notice him when he come in, but 
when the show was out, and I took a good look 
at him, I knew him. He knew me, too, and we 


292 


DAN DRUMMOND 


had a long talk. And I tell you he felt bad when 
he found out that card was gone.” 

“What sort of a boy was he?” inquired Mr. 
Drummond. “ Quite uneducated, I suppose.” 

“ Then you suppose wrong,” retorted Mr. Bur- 
ton. “ Dan’s talk was very pretty, and he lives 
to a minister’s house, and the minister would like 
to have him for his son only Dan wouldn’t, because 
he said he was a Drummond. But the minister’s 
goin’ to send him to college because he thinks 
everything of Dan, and them two boys, his chums, 
is mighty nice, too. They ’re goin’ ’long to college, 
I believe they said.” 

There was silence a few moments. 

Then Mr. Drummond said, “ My uncle will be 
rejoiced to hear this news.” 

“ He ’d ought to be,” commented Mr. Burton. 
“Dan’s a grandson ’most any man as wants a 
grandson had better be pickin’ up.” 

“What is the minister’s name?” asked Mr. 
Drummond after another pause. 

“ That I can’t tell you, and I ’m ashamed of it, 
too. But the town’s Wennott, and a letter to the 
postmaster had ought to find him.” 

“Wennott,” repeated Mr. Drummond. And 
he took out a note book and wrote the name in it. 


A REMINDER 


293 


Mr. Burton watched him with satisfaction. 

“ Guess that means business,’’ he said. 

“Yes,” smiled Mr. Drummond. “I shall write 
to my uncle to-day. It was very kind of you to 
interest yourself so deeply in the matter.” 

“ Kind, nothin’ !” briefly responded Mr. Burton. 
“ Dan ’s one of the sort you can’t help doin’ things 
for. I do n’t know, of course, but I ’ll venture to 
say he ain’t struck nobody yet that wasn’t glad 
to do for him.” 

“ My uncle has the same fortune. People as- 
cribe it to his personal magnetism.” 

“Well, good day to you,” said Mr. Burton 
rising. “ Pauline chewed up the card but I guess 
she ’s made amends.” 

“ Good-by,” said the artist cordially giving Mr. 
Burton his hand. “But stay,” he added. “I 
ought to have your address. My uncle will wish 
to meet you.” 

“All he’s got to do is to say the word,” re- 
sponded Mr. Burton proudly. He drew an old 
envelope from his pocket and wrote on it an ad- 
dress. “ Drop a line to that,” he said, “ and my 
wife will forward it to me.” 

And then the two men parted. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


TEACHING SCHOOL 

Dan was now seventeen and a new experience 
was to be his. Miss Alton was married and gone, 
and he was elected to teach the neighborhood 
school. Among his pupils would be the young 
Baxters and Whitmans and Motleys and Warings 
and the two little daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Hil- 
bert. He had felt some fear about undertaking 
the task, but the greater fear of being dependent 
on Mr. Hilbert urged him on and was ably sec- 
onded by the vigorous tongue of Thad. 

“ Of course you can do it,” said Thad. “ You 
never tried a thing yet that you could n’t do in 
some way or other.” 

Dan laughed. “Oh, of course I can teach some 
way or other,” he said, “ but it ’s a little hard to 
step into Miss Afton’s place.” 

“ Well, you can do it,” persisted Thad. “Can’t 
he, Mose?” 

“ To be sure he can,” answered Mose, who was 
294 


TEACHING SCHOOL 


295 


going to try teaching himself that winter in the 
next neighborhood. 

“ Wish I was n’t an only son,” said Thad with a 
pretended growl. “ Then maybe I could get a 
chance to teach. But what with father and 
mother and grandmother dead set against it, I ’m 
elected to stay at home. Father says I can study 
all the harder with Mr. Hilbert, and mother says 
the house would be unbearably lonesome, and 
grandmother says I sha' n’t. Was ever a boy so 
put upon ? All I have to say is, if part of the 
young idea of this country sprouts the wrong 
way, ‘ Let none look at me.’ ” 

“ On the contrary,” said Mose with a mock- 
rueful countenance, “ let them look at me.” 

The three laughed light-heartedly and saun- 
tered off. 

“Did you s’pose school teachers laughed and 
talked like that ? ” asked Edna Hilbert. 

“ No, I did n’t,” confessed Susie Baxter. 

“ Well, they do,” said Edna, “ because Dan just 
did it.” 

“ And so did Mose,” promptly added Susie. 

It was a trying moment to Dan when he 
stepped to the teacher’s desk that first Monday 
morning to call the school to order. Hitherto he 


296 


DAN DRUMMOND 


had been only a big boy among the little boys and 
girls, and now they were still little boys and 
girls while he was to stand before them with all 
the authority of Miss Afton. 

His hand trembled slightly as he touched the 
bell and he was not ashamed to send up a call 
for help to One who often heard the voice of 
Dan’s heart. 

When quiet fell upon the room it was, in a 
sense, a new Dan who stood there, for he had met, 
faced and conquered another difficulty, and the 
dignity of his victory was upon him. 

It was but a short task to enroll the familiar 
names and set the lessons and then school began 
in earnest. Not, however, in quite the same 
spirit that had dominated it under Miss Afton’s 
rule. 

Presently the new teacher’s attention was at- 
tracted by snapping fingers. He nodded his head 
to Arthur Baxter in permission to speak. 

“Say, Dan,” said Arthur, “may I get a drink?” 

“ Yes,” replied Dan, while his face flushed. 

“ Dan,” said Bob Motley in the arithmetic class, 
“ Bert is n’t working that example right at the 
board. He’s made a mistake in his adding, too.” 

“Where?” asked Bert looking round. “Oh, 


TEACHING SCHOOL 


297 


yes, there,” he added as he detected his error and 
Dan’s face flushed deeper. 

Yonder other fingers were snapping to attract 
attention. Again the young teacher nodded his 
head, this time to Ken Whitman who said, “ Dan, 
I forgot my geography. May I borrow one?” 

“ Yes,” answered Dan, his face growing red- 
der. He knew the pupils ought not to speak 
to him so familiarly, and he did not know how to 
stop it. 

And then, without asking permission, Edna 
Hilbert left her seat and came to him. 

“ What ’s the matter, Dan ? ” she asked. “ Your 
face is so red, and it is n’t hot in here. Are you 
sick?” 

“ No, dear. But go back to your seat. You 
should not have left it without permission.” 

Joe Baxter came to the rescue. He snapped 
liis fingers and received permission to speak. To 
do so the more effectively he rose. “ Seems to 
me, Mr. Drummond, these scholars must have for- 
gotten what they were told this morning by the 
way they call you Dan, and skip round without 
permission.” And with a withering look he sat 
down. 

From that moment there was the proper order 


298 


DAN DRUMMOND 


and no one called him Dan any more in school 
hours. 

“Well, well!” said Mrs. Halfhill when she 
heard of it. “ There ’s all sorts of trials in this 
world and a good share of ’em comes from calling 
folks and things wrong.” Then turning to her 
grandson she asked, “ Do you mind when I called 
you ‘ Thaddie ? ’ ” and she laughed. 

“ Is n’t it funny,” said Edna one day, “ to have 
to call Dan, ‘ Mr. Drummond? ’ ” 

“Yes,” replied Susie. “But I s’pose where 
Mose teaches they have to call him Mr. Baxter, 
too. It’s ’cause they’re teachers, pa says, and 
teachers have to be respected.” 

“Well, I don’t like respecting Dan, calling him 
Mr. Drummond,” declared Edna. “He’s nicest 
when he ’s just Dan.” 

“That’s what I think about Mose,” rejoined 
Susie. “ It has to be that way though, ma says. 
Slie says some day you ’ll be Miss Hilbert and I ’ll 
be Miss Baxter.” 

For a moment Edna brightened up and then she 
sighed. “ It’s just like a game, is n’t it? ” she said. 
“ If you play long enough every single person has 
to be it'' 

“ Well, some games I like to be said Susie. 


TEACHING SCHOOL 


299 


“But we wouldn’t have to be respecting Dan and 
Mose so much now if they wasn’t working to go 
to college. Pa said that college idea made a man 
of Mose, and of course it did or he would n’t be 
called ‘ Mr. Baxter ’ now where he’s teaching.” 

“But Thad’s going to college, too, and he’s 
just as old as Dan and Mose, and we do n’t have to 
call him Mr. Duncan,” said Edna who continued 
to feel aggrieved. 

“ Maybe we ought to though,” observed Susie 
with an anxious look. “Do you s’pose we had?” 

“I don’t know,” replied Edna. 

“Well, I’m going to then,” said Susie decid- 
edly. “ Do n’t you know it says when you think a 
thing’s right and you’re not quite certain you 
ought to do it anyway, ’cause maybe it’s Satan 
trying to keep you from it? ” 

“I’ll do it, too, then,” said Edna with decision. 
“ Satan needn’t think he can keep me from call- 
ing Thad ‘ Mr. Duncan.’ I do n’t think much 
of Satan, going about trying to get folks to 
do wrong all the time. I sliould think he’d be 
ashamed.” 

“ So should I,” said Susie. “ But there comes 
Thad — I mean Mr. Duncan. And Dan — that 
is, Mr. Drummond, is just going to ring the bell.” 


300 


DAN DBUM3IOND 


Thad was full of mischief that afternoon, as 
Dan saw the moment he caught sight of a preter- 
naturally grave look on his friend’s face. Thad 
did not approach, however, but contented himself 
with a distant bow until . Dan had gone to his 
desk and he knew that every pupil must be seated 
in position for opening exercises. Then he 
advanced from under the tree where he had been 
standing and knocked portentously on the old 
schoolhouse door. 

Dan, suspecting what was coming, deputed 
Willie Baxter to open the door and he looked up 
with round e3^es into the solemn visage that 
seemed to see him with unrecognizing eyes. 

“Don’t you know me?” asked Willie in an 
audible and anxious whisper. 

And without the ghost of a smile Thad an- 
swered, “ How do you do, my little man ? ” and 
laid his hand on the child’s head. 

“I guess I’m Willie Baxter,” declared the 
little fellow indignantly. “And you’d ought to 
know it by this time.” 

But with never a word of reply, Thad, holding 
his hat as the directors used to hold their hats 
when in his childhood days they came to visit the 
school, advanced to the platform making his shoes 


TEACHING SCHOOL 


301 


squeak at every step while the children looked on 
amazed. 

“ Mr. Drummond, I believe,” said Thad, as he 
laid his hat on the teacher’s desk and took a chair. 
“ I thought I would visit your school this after- 
noon. My name is Duncan, Thaddeus Duncan.” 

Then for the first and only time that term a 
whisper ran round the room. “ Thad ’s playing 
director,” it said, and with a nod the children pre- 
pared to help him, even as he had often helped 
them play Romans. 

Now Thad was so busy holding on to his grav- 
ity that he had not heard the whisper, and Dan 
was trying so hard not to laugh that he missed it 
too. Presently, when Dan could control his 
voice, he called the class in spelling. 

Susie Baxter was at the head of the class, and 
she walked straight up to Thad with her open 
book and, extending it to him, said with all the 
politeness she would have shown to a real direc- 
tor, “ Will you have a book, Mr. Duncan ?” 

Thad bowed and took the book and the class, 
filing into position, spelled gravely away without 
a break and never missed a word. Dan was sur- 
prised at that and he was pleased, too. His own 
ease came back to him, and Thad was quite tired 


302 


DAN DRUMMOND 


of playing Mr. Duncan by the time school was 
out. 

“Well, Thacl,” said Mrs. Halfhill that evening 
when her grandson had finished relating his after- 
noon’s experience, “looks to me as if you got 
beat at your own game. The children in this 
neighborhood is pretty quick to see through any- 
thing, and they ’re all master hands at pretending. 
And so you didn’t do Dan no harm, though you 
might have if things had turned out different. 
I ’ve seen you a number of times, Mr. Thaddeus 
Duncan, and you don’t never look so comical as 
you do when your face is real straight.” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


A GRANDFATHER 

When Dan had grown a little accustomed to 
his new work it was seen that the smaller chil- 
dren in whom, as yet, no love of learning had 
been implanted, advanced uncommonly fast. For 
there was a magnetism about Dan that made 
whatever he gave his attention to of great inter- 
est to those around him. Willie Baxter and the 
baby, who was now old enough to go to school 
and whose name was Allan, were especially bene- 
fited. And if ever the weather compelled them 
to stay at home they howled as if they had been 
deprived of their part of a Fourth-of-July cele- 
bration. 

*‘Who’d think it, and him so young?” asked 
Mrs. Halfhill in admiration. “ But I tell you it 
explains some of these characters in history that 
you read about that carried folks right along with 

’em into all sorts of danger and even to their own 

% 

deaths. Them children can’t help learning, and 
303 


304 


DAN DRIMMOND 


it's Dan. He’s the one. Never a one has hung 
back on any road he started on — that is, after 
that first trouble he had with Thad and Mose.” 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Baxter. “ He came just at 
the right time to get Mose and Thad into the 
right track.” 

“ And all the rest of the boys in this neighbor- 
hood, you might say,” rejoined Mrs. Halfhill, who 
was spending the day with Mrs. Baxter. “ And 
only think,” continued the old lady, “ if with all 
them gifts of his he ’d been bad ! I tell you he ’d 
have been a rejoicement to Satan. He don’t set 
himself up, but where he goes there folks follow, 
just as pins and tacks goes to the magnet. If 
them folks of his knew what he was like they’d 
keep hunting for him, I guess. Queer they ever 
lost him, I think.” 

“ Yes,” agreed Mrs. Baxter, “ but such things 
happen oftener than you might suppose. There ’s 
very little in this world so queer that it might n't 
be true.” 

“Well, yes, in a general way,” responded Mrs. 
Half hill. “But I have read some things in stories 
that I knew couldn’t be true. Such as pickin’ 
currants at wrong time of year. I read once of 
a girl makin’ jell for the poor, and she made it 


A GRANDFATHER 


305 


at a most uncommon time of 3^ear. I just sup- 
posed that the one that wrote it was a city girl 
that never see a currant bush and I let it go. 
But how’s Mose making out in his school?” 

“Very well, indeed, I believe,” returned Mrs. 
Baxter with pride. “ Mose has a way with chil- 
dren, you know.” 

“ I should think he ’d ought to have, the way 
he managed with his brothers and sisters. It’s a 
pretty sight to see how Susie stands by him.” 

Mrs. Baxter went to the kitchen to prepare din- 
ner while Mrs. Half hill sat lost in thought. 

“ I declare,” she said rousing herself when Mrs. 
Baxter came in to set the table. “I can’t get 
Dan out of my mind. I ’ve got a sort of presenti 
ment about him.” 

Mrs. Baxter laughed. “Oh, Dan’s all right,” 
she said. 

“ I know he is, but someway I feel uneasy about 
him, as if we was going to lose him or some- 
thing.” 

“ Wh}^ we could n’t lose him,” said Mrs. Bax- 
ter. “ I did n’t know you believed in presenti- 
ments.” 

“I don’t,” returned Mrs. Halfhill. “And I 

never had one before.” 

20 


306 


r>AN DRUBT310ND 


At that moment the postmaster in Wennott was 
reading a letter. It was very short and ran : 

Dear Sir: 

Can you give me the name of the minister in your town who 
has a boy with him called Dan Drummond ? 

Please answer by return mail. I enclose a stamped and ad- 
dressed envelope. 

Very truly yours, 

Fletcher Hopkins. 

The postmaster looked at the printed head of 
the sheet and discovered that Fletcher Hopkins 
was an attorney. And having a little spare time 
he sat down at once and wrote : 

Mr. Fletcher Hopkins, 

Dear Sir: 

The minister’s name is James Hilbert. 

Very truly yours, 

Jonas Hitchcock, 

Postmaster. 

“ That ’s all right,” said the postmaster to him- 
self as he sealed the envelope. “Mr. Hilbert’s the 
man he wants, if he does live out in the country.” 

Dan went right along with his teaching and his 
studying with Mr. Hilbert. 

“Would you think teachers would have to go 
on studying ? ” asked Edna of Susie one day. 

“ No, I should n’t,” returned Susie. 

“Well, they do, ’cause Dan does.” 


A GRANDFATHER 


307 


“And Mose,” added Susie. 

“ What a lot of learning it must take to go to 
college when you have to know more to go there 
than you do to teach our sciiool ! ” exclaimed 
Edna. 

“Yes,” sighed Susie, “and we’ve got to know 
as much as all that too, ’cause ma says we ’re go- 
ing to college too.” 

Thad, who had come up unnoticed, looked into 
their doleful faces and burst out laughing. 

“What you laughing at, Mr. Duncan?” asked 
Susie. 

“ Do n’t Mr. Duncan me, I beg of you,” said 
Thad. “I laughed to see how sorrowful a thing it 
was to have to learn and go to college.” 

“’T is n’t sorrowful, either,” said Edna. “Dan 
don’t do sorrowful things and he’s going.” 

“Neither does Mose,” said Susie, “and he’s go- 
ing.” 

“I beg your pardon, ladies,” said Thad gal- 
lantly. “I see I was mistaken.” And still laugh- 
ing he took himself off. 

“ I do n’t care if Thad has got manners,” re- 
marked Edna when he was gone, “he likes to 
make fun of us just the same.” 

“He has to,” observed Susie sagely. “It ’sin 


308 


DAN DRUMMOND 


him. I heard ma say so, and she said a better 
boy did n’t live, either.” 

It was now October and the most beautiful 
October Dan thought he had ever seen. Mr. 
Daniel Drummond was setting out for the middle 
west. He had had a long talk with his nephew 
upon landing two weeks before, and had been to 
see Mr. Burton. 

“ Going to hunt him up, are you ? ” asked Mr. 
Burton delightedly. “Well, sir, I ain’t much on 
the brag, but I must say that if it had n’t been for 
Pauline you might have been a long time on the 
hunt. Some folks has an idea that goats do n’t 
know nothin’ only to eat old rubbish and to jump 
down off of things and light on their horns. But 
them things is just a goat’s amusement, like chew- 
ing gum and swinging Indian clubs. Do folks 
suppose goats don’t want no fun just because 
they ’re goats ? ” 

Mr. Daniel Drummond smiled and said that he 
had no doubt that Pauline was a fine animal and 
he owed a debt of gratitude to her. And Mr. 
Drummond’s finely modulated voice was a pleas- 
ant thing to hear. 

“Right you are,” responded Mr. Burton. 
“But you won’t rightly size up that there debt 




309 


till you see Dan. He ’s the grandson for you ! 
J ust the livin’ image of what you must have been 
at his age.” 

“ How can I repay you for your interest in 
him?” asked Mr. Drummond, for he had found 
out that Mr. Burton, in spite of all his managing 
and industry, had no more money than he needed. 

“ Pay ! ” exclaimed Mr. Burton. “ Pay me ! I 
do n’t want no pay. I get my pay knowin’ that 
Dan’s fixed up in good shape. What I done 
didn’t cost me nothin’, and you can see for your- 
self that I couldn’t have done a thing if it hadn’t 
been for Pauline. ’T ain’t likely I ’d been a-sea- 
sidin’ it if it had n’t been for Pauline and the rest 
of the goats, a-renting ’em out to the children, 
and if 1 had n’t been sea-sidin’ I should n’t have 
met your nephew and I should n’t have met him 
anyway if Pauline had n’t been smart enough to 
upset his baby. This gettin’ grandfather and 
grandson together is a very pretty pie, but I 
didn’t have much of a finger in it, as you can see.” 

“ I see how it is,” answered Mr. Drummond 
politely. “And now would you kindly permit 
me to buy Pauline a new carriage and harness?” 

Mr. Burton thought a moment. “ I don’t know 
as I ’d ought to,” he said. 


310 


DAN DRUMMOND 


“ I should esteem it a favor,” urged Mr. Drum- 
mond. 

“Well,” said Mr. Burton, “Pauline’s pretty 
vain. I don’t know as I’d ought to stand in her 
light.” 

“ I am sure you ought not,” said Mr. Drum 
mond. So the carriage and harness were ordered. 

“I’m obliged to you,” said Mr. Burton in part- 
ing, “but you mustn’t think Pauline had a new 
carriage and harness in mind when slie upset that 
baby.” 

“ I am sure she liad not,” answered Mr. Drum- 
mond as he lifted his hat and walked away. 

He had found Mr. Burton at a county fair, for 
Mrs. Burton, at Mr. Drummond’s request, in- 
stead of forwarding his letter had written her hus- 
band’s address directly to him. 

That day there was such a steady stream of ap- 
plicants for rides in the goat carriages as Mr. 
Burton had never known. And the children 
did not mention that a tall elderly gentleman 
had given them the money to pay for their 
rides. 

“ That day,” said Mr. Burton afterward, “ was 
the best day for business I ever see. It was 
bright and warm and sunny, and the children 


A GRANDFATHER 


311 


just kept cornin’ and cornin’. Do n’t know what 
put ’em in the notion, either.” 

The next day saw Mr. Daniel Drummond en 
route for Chicago. And all his thoughts as the 
train rumbled on were of his grandson. 

“ Named for me,” he mused. “ Was that 
Mary’s work or Tom’s? ” He sighed. Tom had 
not been like his father. He must have been a 
Drummond of whom that man in Chicago had 
never heard when he said he had never known a 
Drummond to do a mean act. Proud, imperious, 
and wilful, with an exaggerated idea of his own 
importance, in a moment of anger at some fan- 
cied injury on the part of his father, he had flung 
off into the world, taking his young wife with him. 
Steadily he had gone down in fortune until he 
died. A few years later his wife also died, and 
the father, who had tried to keep track of him 
and had been purposely baffled, learned at last 
that a son had been left. And just when he 
thought he had found him Dan had disappeared 
again. 

“Was it Mary or Tom who named him for 
me ? ” he thought. “ I want to believe, I will be- 
lieve it was both.” 

And he was right. The son had seen his mis- 


312 


DAN DRmiMOND 


take but would not own it, and had gone on to 
his death without a word. The mother had in- 
tended to speak, but she died suddenly. 

A night’s rest in Chicago and the hale old gen- 
tleman of seventy went on. He was glad that it 
was partly a daylight trip. He wished to see the 
route his grandson had taken five years before. 
But looking from the car window he did not see it. 
Would it have hurt his pride to know that Dan 
had tramped that weary way of between three and 
four hundred miles with only such lifts as passing 
teams gave? No, for his pride was not of that 
sort. 

As he looked from the car window with busy 
thoughts, the flat prairie of Illinois was left be- 
hind, and in the dusk he came into Iowa. With 
eyes undimmed and luminous he stepped out at 
midnight upon the Wennott platform. 

“ Where does the Reverend James Hilbert live ? 
Can you tell me ? ” he asked after he had regis- 
tered. 

The clerk of the hotel was a young man who 
knew little of Wennott and nothing of the sur- 
rounding country, all his mind, such as it was, 
being concentrated on his own personal appear- 
ance and the stir it was likely to make in admir- 


A GRANDFATHER 


313 


ing feminine minds. So he answered that he had 
never heard of the Reverend James Hilbert. 

Disappointedly Mr. Drummond followed the 
clerk who led the way to his room. But pres- 
ently his hope returned. “ I ’ll see the postmaster 
in the morning,” he decided. 

The post office was not hard to find when, late 
the next forenoon, Mr. Drummond left the hotel, 
and the postmaster was at liberty as soon as the 
mail was sorted. 

“ Reverend James Hilbert ? ” he repeated. 
“ Yes, sir. He has a country parish some three or 
four miles north of town.” 

That evening Dan went gaily home. School 
had gone well that day. Nearly every child had 
good marks. According to his custom he ran 
around the corner of the little house and entered 
the kitchen, but stopped short. Mrs. Hilbert 
stood there gazing straight before her out of the 
window at nothing, and her eyes were full ot 
tears. 

“ Why, Aunt Addie ! ” cried Dan. “ What is 
it?” 

And then Mrs. Hilbert ran to him and put up 
her arms around his neck. “ O Dan, Dan ! ” she 
said. “ I had hoped to keep you always.” 


314 


DAN DRmiMOND 


“ Why, Aunt Addie,” said the tall young fel- 
low caressing her hair and stooping to kiss her, 
“Why can’t you keep me always? Have I said 
anything about going ? ” 

“ No, but your grandfather Drummond is here.” 
And then she pushed him into the tiny sitting- 
room and shut the door. 

Flushing and paling by turns he advanced into 
the room seeing dimly Mr. Hilbert’s face, but 
when he looked into his grandfather’s eyes he 
knew that at last he had found the Drummonds 
and that he was counted worthy. 

Did Dan go away ? 

Yes, but not at once, for Mr. Drummond knew 
what was due to his grandson’s friends. And 
Dan was never to be parted from them for good ; 
his grandfather’s word was surety for that. 

“ Grandpa Drummond likes Dan,” said Edna. 

“ Yes, and he likes Mose, too,” said Susie. 
“ And Thad and all the boys. He says he wants 
Dan to be friends with them always. And they ’re 
all going to college together, too, just as if he 
had n’t come.” 

“ Yes, but Dan do n’t have to earn his money to 
go any more,” said Edna. “ Grandpa said he 
did n’t.” 


A GEANDFATHEB 


315 


It was the first of November when Mr. Drum- 
mond took Dan away, and none but he could 
guess how much the neighborhood lost, for he 
judged by what he knew he himself had gained. 




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